The Cycle Continues Part Four: Eternal
by autumn6435
Summary: After the birth of their baby, Eragon and Arya's troubles are mostly over. But Varhog and Willow have far more to endure. Their faith and eternal love carry them through the difficult trials yet before them, allowing them to emerge triumphantly over King Kulkarvek in this moving conclusion to The Cycle Continues.
1. Time in the Meadow

**A/N:** Here is the compelling conclusion (in my opinion ;) to _The Cycle Continues_. If you are reading this note and have not yet read Parts One, Two, and Three of _The Cycle Continues_ , go find them and read them first. Then this will make sense! They are respectively entitled _Reunited_ , _Beauty and the Beast_ , and _Full Circle_.

I have finally finished my personal revisions of Part Four. Lucky for you, if you're reading this for the first time, you'll never know the difference. As with all of the other parts, one of the biggest changes I made was in the discussion and portrayal of intimate love. Such scenes are much briefer, less detailed, and tamer, and I have included A/Ns at the end of preceding chapters to warn readers who may want to bypass the mature love scenes. For the sake of flow and pacing, I have also removed several chapters that once told yet another love story. Consequently, this listing is now nearly 40,000 words shorter than what I originally posted. Hope it helps! Thanks for your continued interest! ~Autumn :)

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1\. Time in the Meadow

Time in the meadow passed impossibly quickly. Arya let Hanin and Maehrí hold Brom before they left for the Isle the next morning.

"You should have seen how effortlessly he took to Eragon last night," Arya bragged, addressing all of the Riders. "Eragon is the sweetest father. Your fearless leader will provide an unerring example in yet another way. Brom was perfectly content to sleep on his chest after being soothed to sleep by a sweet lullaby. Similar to me."

Eragon laughed, and everyone joined him when he contributed, "We also determined that he inherited my fondness for her breasts. He never let go the rest of the night after we finally stopped talking. Or after _I_ finally stopped talking, I should say. Anyway, I've never had a turn that long. I told Arya how indescribable it was to fall in love so quickly, and I'm excited for the rest of you men to have the same experience when the time comes to meet your babies."

It was a welcome picture for each of his brothers to anticipate, since they knew their futures would bring them all to the same place of joy by the end of the year. Hanin and Maehrí left not long after.

For another ten days, Murtagh, Nasuada, and Elva remained in the meadow. Nasuada and Elva had many opportunities to hold Brom, who remained as content and happy as at first. Murtagh even once accepted the invitation to hold his tiny nephew, who was just then starting to fit the small outfit Angela had given Eragon and Arya on their wedding day. Brom favored him by opening his eyes when Murtagh spoke to him in the sing-song baby voice they all unconsciously adapted.

"I do believe they're becoming greener," Murtagh observed with a delighted grin as the baby looked at him with alert eyes. "My voice must sound enough like Eragon's for him to be so comfortable with me." It was obvious that, whatever the reason, Murtagh was extremely gratified the baby had shown him such an honor.

When his turn was over because Brom needed to return to his mother, Murtagh returned his hands to Nasuada's womb, his expression revealing his excitement for the time when _he_ would have such a tiny creature to hold as often as he was able, though he knew his child would be a daughter.

When Brom was nearly two weeks old, and Nasuada was thirty weeks pregnant, they decided to return to Ilirea, and they left with many promises to scry frequently as the time for the birth approached and to keep all the others abreast of the situation with the Urgal king.

Once Thorn was finally out of sight, the four remaining members of the party looked at one another.

"Down to five from thirteen when we left Ellesméra," Willow commented. Her womb was now larger than Arya's had been right before Brom was born, and she was leaning into Varhog, who looked as if he wished he could hold her. But even that was getting hard for Willow since she couldn't bend at the waist as easily. "And that's after one joined us from the heavens and two took his place there. What amazing experiences we've had in this meadow. I'll always remember our time here." She had her hands resting on the shelf of her belly, and her babies moved noticeably.

"They're getting so big," Arya said. "How are you feeling, Willow? Why don't we go sit down? We've all just had breakfast, including Brom. Would you like to hold him?"

Willow laughed as she began moving in the direction of the four logs. "Yes, they are getting big. I hope all this time spent squished together will encourage them to be friends."

Arya invited, "Come into the cottage. You're sure to be more comfortable on the sofa."

Willow nodded gratefully, changing directions and continuing to respond to Arya's questions, "I feel wonderful. Really. Just more and more awkward every day. I can't believe I still have ten more weeks if I carry them to full term. I don't know how my belly will stretch that much. I'm already getting the most attractive stretch marks all over my skin. I'm sure Varhog will just love that once the babies are born."

"You know I don't care, Eartheyes," Varhog insisted. "You're the most beautiful woman in existence, though I know Firesword would disagree. I'm so grateful that you don't hate me and how your body is necessarily changing so much to grow my babies."

Willow smiled at him. "No, sweetheart. I'll never hate you. And I'm honored for the opportunity to grow your babies. They'll be strong and handsome like you, if they're sons. And in answer to your last question, Arya, I'd love to hold Brom, if you're willing to relinquish yours."

They sat and conversed in the small sitting room of Ellei-an's cottage. Willow held Brom until he began squirming, and Eragon helped him go potty. When he came back Eragon said, "Did I tell you that Brom first relieved himself on me? That was funny." He handed Brom to Arya because the baby had been attempting to eat Eragon's shoulder on the way back. "He seems to be hungry again, my love."

"Look how he's finally starting to fill out," Arya proudly said as she began nursing her son.

"It's true," Willow agreed. "I was thinking he's actually starting to look chubby. He's so darling. I think Murtagh was right that his eyes will be green. How do you suppose his and Nasuada's daughter will look? I'm sure she'll be stunning. She'll no doubt have some combination of their skin, so maybe light brown. What if she got his eyes? That would be striking. Not quite as nice as yellow and gray, but I'm a little biased." She smiled as she looked over at Varhog, who returned her expression in like manner.

"There's no appearance lovelier than brown eyes, fair skin, and brown hair," Varhog returned. "I hope our babies will have all three."

"Our babies will have the most potential for interesting combinations, won't they?" Willow mused. "I wonder if they'll grow horns. What would a mix of gray and ivory skin be like? I suppose a blend of our eyes would be nice. Some kind of golden brown or something like that. Can you believe we get to meet them so soon, Yelloweyes?"

Varhog smiled again as she used his nickname and replied, "When you used to call me that on the Isle, I never believed I'd one day be your husband, with you expecting my babies. I'm more excited than I can say for that time, Eartheyes. But I'm worried about you and your comfort in the coming weeks of travel. I've been meaning to bring it up with Firesword and Arya."

Varhog turned to the other couple, who had been partly listening to Willow's and Varhog's exchange while keeping most of their attention on Brom.

On hearing himself addressed, Eragon looked up and said, "We're listening."

"For Willow's sake, I want to return to our village as soon as possible," Varhog began. "Are you both still set on staying here another week? I know Willow doesn't want to leave you, but I've also thought you might not object to some time alone as a family, when you know no one else will secretly be wishing to hold Brom and you won't feel like you have to entertain guests. How would you feel about us going on ahead? Or perhaps leaving earlier?"

"I have no objections to leaving earlier," Arya said. "I get so much time with Brom that it's not as hard as I thought to give him up for a few minutes. Especially since I know I'll get him back so soon when he's next hungry. Thank goodness he likes to eat so often. It might be slightly harder in Ellesméra where all of the elves will surely want to hold the former queen's baby, and since he'll be the only baby there. It's so different from Varhog's village, where it sometimes seems there are more babies than arms to hold them. What do you think, Eragon? Would you object to leaving earlier than I originally planned?"

"Of course not, my love," Eragon said. "You know I don't. I'll follow you wherever you go, Arya, whenever you want to go there. You know you're really the one in charge here." He smiled at her amused expression of agreement.

"That was easy," Arya said. "Well, there you have it, Varhog. We'll go whenever you're ready. I have the sling to carry Brom in, and we also thought of some wards to cast around our dragons' backs to keep him from falling, so that will be an extra reassurance, though I really don't think we'll have much to worry about. When would you like to go?"

"Willow is twenty-nine, almost thirty weeks along," Varhog said. "I've tried to be generous in my estimates, knowing how uncomfortable it is for her to sit so long in a hard saddle, and I truly think it will take a month of flying to get back home. If we can leave tomorrow, that would be my preference. We'll stop for a couple of days in Ellesméra to get her armor from Rhunön and be on our way again as soon as we can."

"We can be ready by tomorrow," Arya said. "Raising a baby the Urgralgra way requires nothing but a way to carry him about attached to my body and my breasts. So easy. Nothing fancy. Just the way nature intended, I'm sure."

"Thank you," Varhog earnestly said. "Since I'm responsible for getting her this way, I want to do my best to ensure that Willow is as comfortable as she can be. As the weather grows warmer, that will also be a consideration. I'll feel much better when we're safely back in my village with my mother and sisters all around to help."

"I completely understand, my friend," Eragon said.

"Thank you, Varhog," Willow said. "You're always so thoughtful of me. I can make it through this next month knowing I have you to look after me." She placed a hand over her belly where a large lump pressed out. "They're wrestling again," she said with a laugh.

Varhog put his hand over the area. "Or dancing," he joked. Then he leaned down to kiss her belly, careful that his horn nearest Willow would not graze her body.

Arya smiled at the exchange. "I love watching you," she remarked. "I'm grateful Willow helped me overcome my misconceptions about Urgals. I've learned so much from you, Varhog, and your people's ways. I'm honored to call you brother." Varhog murmured his thanks, and Arya continued, "There's really not much to do. We might as well spend the rest of the day relaxing. Won't you two join us for lunch?"


	2. Worried

2\. Worried

The small party left the following morning, and it took them a few days longer to return to Ellesméra than it had to travel to Ellei-an's meadow. Willow had to stop every few hours to walk around, relieve herself, and stretch her back and hips. She was always apologetic, but no one else minded. Eragon and Arya used the leisurely breaks to tend to Brom's needs.

Maehrí's parents invited the group stay with them when they stopped overnight in Sílthrim. Silvi was overjoyed to see Brom and deeply honored to have the chance to hold him.

Nefan shared that Hanin and Maehrí had scryed some days earlier with news that they had safely reached the Isle and that the other Riders were all excited to meet their newest sister, both as a Rider and mate to one of their brothers. They had immediately liked the plan of traveling to Alagaёsia later that summer, since they were all missing their fellow Riders and feeling especially isolated on the Isle. Tomath was overjoyed he had permission to make the trip and visit his family two years earlier than would normally be allowed.

This news was particularly welcome to Willow, who missed her brothers so much. The dwarves made her laugh longer than anyone else, and Tomath was so sweet. And she had always been friends with Grintuk, given how easily she had taken to Varhog.

-:-:-

They landed in Ellesméra a little over a week after their stay in Sílthrim. The trip had taken just under a fortnight, and Willow was already exhausted. Upon reaching their comfortable tree house, they retired at once. Willow slept in Varhog's arms, as was her usual habit, though it was more important than at any previous time, since her great belly could rest against his side, relieving some of the strain on her back. Though she was already asleep, Varhog sang to her as part of their nightly ritual, hoping his babies would also hear.

In the morning, after a restful sleep, they enjoyed some leisurely time in their cozy bed, not feeling rushed to make their way to Rhunön's dwelling. Varhog served her breakfast in bed, then returned to snuggle with Willow, once again holding her in his arms after a tender intimate expression.

Varhog broke the contented silence by saying, "We needn't do that, Willow. Your womb tightened powerfully that time."

"But the babies are fine," Willow insisted. "I know you check on them too. I'm sure such contractions are good for me, since they help strengthen my womb. I'll need all the help I can get pushing them out. And they like it too," she further reasoned, giggling as the babies energetically wriggled around inside of her. "We can't deny them the enjoyment of such an experience as that."

"The bigger they get, the more I worry I'll disturb them when we join our bodies," Varhog admitted. "It wouldn't be safe to encourage them to come this early, would it?"

"No, you're right," Willow said. "Please don't try to talk me out of that yet, Varhog. It makes me desperately sad to think of going eight weeks without making love."

"I'm sorry. I'll join with you as often as you ask me to, but not for my sake. I love holding you and looking at your beautiful body. It's more beautiful to me than it ever has been. It's so amazing what it's doing." He laughed as the babies each kicked him at the same time. "They _are_ happy this morning, aren't they? I actually worry they might hurt you, Willow. I've heard of strong kicks late in pregnancy being able to crack a woman's ribs, and these babies will be so squished by the time they're born and seem so strong already. Maybe we can cast some wards to protect you."

"Might not hurt," Willow agreed, flinching slightly at the powerful movements within her.

Varhog cast the wards right then. "I hope that helps," he murmured in concern.

Willow lifted her face and stretched toward him. "Kiss me?" she asked, so vulnerably.

Varhog gladly did, wondering why she said it so hesitantly. "Is something wrong, Eartheyes?" he asked some minutes later when she finally pulled back to breathe. His heart was pounding again. Whenever she kissed him like that it was all he could do to control the demands of his Urgralgra blood to join with her. But he still could, and he was always grateful.

"I don't know," Willow said. Then tears came to her eyes and she admitted with a guilty grin, "I guess so. I'm worried thinking about this armor Rhunön made for me, Varhog. She said she knew I would need it, that it would protect me somehow. She seemed to make it with the specific purpose of fighting an Urgal, since it will protect me from crushing blows. Why? Why will I need this? I never want to fight another member of your race again. I love you. I mean, I love your race. All of them. I'd never be able to see an Urgralgra ram without somehow seeing you and Tarhvek and Raygog and father. We're going to be parents. What kind of a situation could possibly arise that would require I fight an Urgal when I'll be a mother. I'm just worried thinking about it." The tears spilled onto her cheeks, flowing down her face until they reached his chest.

Willow's tears and desperate sincerity broke Varhog's heart. "Has this long been weighing on your mind?" he gently wondered.

Willow nodded, once again looking guilty when she confessed, "Since Rhunön first said she wanted to make it."

Varhog creased his brow in concern. "That has been nearly two months, Willow. You should have told me sooner, if only to allow me share your worry."

"I'm sorry, Varhog," she breathed. "I should have. I didn't think I needed to trouble you. I can barely admit it, but the only reason, the only situation I can think of where I would need this armor is if I were somehow, someday required to fight . . . to fight . . ." She gasped.

"The king?" Varhog finished in a deathly quiet whisper.

She stared up at him in silence, her fear apparent in her eyes as she weakly nodded.

"Willow," he soothed. "Oh, Willow. I wish I could say the thought had never crossed my mind. But it has, and it pains me so to admit it. I can't foresee a situation that would precede such a confrontation, but it seems the only likely possibility, the only reason you might need such a piece of armor. I'm so sorry I couldn't comfort you these last months, that we were too afraid to confide our deepest fears. Can we try to put it from our minds for now? Rhunön seemed sure you wouldn't need it before the babies are born, so we have some time."

Willow nodded again, pulling herself up until she could bury her face in his neck. She sobbed for a long while, and the babies calmed down, as if they sensed their mother's deep anxiety. Varhog stroked her back and sang to her, though his deep voice broke more than once as his own tears wet her hair. He prayed they were both wrong and would never be required to face the king, and especially that Willow would never need fight him.

At length her sobs diminished until infrequent tremors shook her body. "Would you like to bathe now, Eartheyes?"

"Only if we can together," Willow rasped then cleared her throat.

"Let me get you a drink," Varhog offered, getting up and swiftly returning to her with a glass of water.

"Thank you, Varhog," she whispered after she had drained it.

"We can both fit if you sit on top of me," Varhog said. "The basin is deep enough, though your belly might poke up." He gave her a timid grin, not sure if humor would be welcome.

Willow smiled back at him, and he saw that she tried to make it seem sincere. Varhog offered her a hand up, which she readily accepted, allowing him to pull her all the way to her feet, which was no great effort for him. She was so emotionally distressed that she sagged right into his body, and Varhog supported her over to the washbasin. He lowered himself in before reaching up and helping her do the same. Willow turned on the water, making it the temperature she wanted, for Varhog didn't care. It could be cold as a lake filled with winter run-off or as hot as their hot spring. He was used to either extreme.

Willow rested limply against him, her head lolling to the side. Varhog leaned her forward enough to pull her hair out from between them, sensing from the angle of her neck that it was tugging uncomfortably. He twisted it together and draped it over the front of her body.

"Willow," Varhog whispered in her ear, but she made no response. "Willow, are you well?"

Willow still didn't answer, and Varhog's stomach clenched fearfully. Her eyes had a distant, glazed look in them, and she was breathing but seemed to be in a stupor.

Varhog spoke more loudly, "What's wrong, Eartheyes? Please answer me. I'm worried."

Willow blinked slowly. "Hmm?" she wondered, looking up at him. "Did you say something?"

"Yes. What's wrong? You're scaring me."

"I'm trying to forget about the dismal possibilities we were just discussing," Willow said, acting mildly surprised he was so worried. "Didn't you suggest we should?"

Varhog exhaled slowly, shaking his head. "Aye, Eartheyes. Just don't go quite so far away. I tried to get your attention three times, but you didn't respond. Even though I could see you breathing, it still scared me."

"I'm sorry, Varhog. I can't bear the thought of fighting anymore. I don't have it in me. And the king? He's your grandfather. No matter how ruthless and bloodthirsty, I'll never be able to forget that. According to Urgralish custom, he's my grandfather too. I wouldn't stand a chance. Ten feet tall? Stronger than you or Garzhvog. Maybe stronger than both of you combined. Ability with magic? I pray it will never be."

"As do I, Eartheyes. As fervently as I have ever prayed for anything." The water had nearly filled the basin, and Varhog reached around her to turn it off. "May I wash you?" he offered.

Willow nodded, once again letting Varhog do all the work of moving her as needed. She had told him more than once that she was grateful he could, and Varhog was too. What was the point of being unnecessarily strong if he couldn't put it to good use sometimes? He could move her as easily she would have been able to move Brom, and in their position he could reach her whole body with his long arms.

Varhog sat up straighter, turning her so he could cradle her and lower her head closer to the water. She rested her cheek against his bicep. "I'm sorry I'm being so lazy, Yelloweyes. I know it takes such little effort for you and the same movements for me are so exhausting, especially when I feel so emotionally drained."

"You know how much I love being able to serve you," Varhog said, wetting her hair and pouring some sweet-smelling shampoo onto her head. He set the bottle down and began working the soap into her long hair, lathering it into a sudsy pile with gentle massaging motions of his fingertips. He looked back at her face when he felt a different warm wetness on his arm. Willow was crying with her eyes closed.

"Your tears decided to come back?" Varhog playfully asked, treating them as a third person, like she sometimes did.

"Yes," Willow replied, a mildly exasperated smile on her lips. "I never seem to know when they'll make an appearance. This time it might be because my husband it the kindest ram in the world and I'm so grateful for him. Though why my tears must begin at that, I'll never know."

"Maybe they know how endearing it is for said ram to see such a tender display of gratitude," Varhog suggested. "They appear to ensure that he will continue being just as kind in hopes of again witnessing his beloved mate's affection spilling out of her eyes." He was rinsing her hair out by pouring water over it.

"That seems as good a reason as any," Willow allowed with another smile, finally cracking her eyes open to look at him. "I sense us heading off into that deep, mind-boggling territory wherein we sometimes tread, Yelloweyes. I've had enough discussion of heavy matters this morning. Let's be on to lighter topics."

"Fine with me. What do you suggest? You're the expert at lighthearted." He poured one last cup of water over her hair to be thorough. "I'm done, by the way."

"Perfect. My turn? Your body is my favorite lighthearted topic, though it's far from light." Willow giggled at her silly joke, and he chuckled at the sound.

They carried on is this lighter manner, Willow abusing every opportunity to feel him by attempting to tickle him, which was often successful. They finally decided to emerge when her skin was wrinkly, and they dressed in clean clothes. Varhog had long ago learned and memorized her spell for drying her hair and curling it under, so he did both, brushing it in between.

"If you hadn't become a Dragon Rider, Yelloweyes, I think you should have considered being a barber. You have quite the latent skill."

Varhog grinned. "I think you would be of a different opinion if you ever asked me to trim it," he disagreed.

"What _do_ you do when your hair needs a trim?" Willow curiously asked. "We've been married how long? Nearly seven months? And we were best friends for seven years before. How can I not know that?"

"I just use magic to trim it off. I think all of the male Riders do the same, if they do anything to groom their facial or head hair. The dwarves don't do much, but I know that's what Firesword and Murtagh do, as well as Hanin."

"Well, I would imagine it's not so different with a woman's hair. Why don't you go ahead and give mine a little trim? Just off the bottom so it's healthier-looking. I haven't done anything like that in years. I'm embarrassed to admit that using magic never entered my mind, though I do every time I wash it to get the water out."

"Your hair already looks so healthy," Varhog protested. "And I love how long it is."

"Just trim off a couple inches," Willow insisted. "Make it look wavy and natural like you like it. You'll be able to do a better job than I with your perspective."

"Very well, Eartheyes," Varhog relented, muttering in the ancient language, just as he had to dry and curl her hair, since they were speaking Urgralish as they always did when alone. It was as easy as she predicted, and Varhog decided it did indeed look healthier and fuller. "All done," he informed her.

Willow pulled it over her shoulder to closely examine his handiwork then tossed it around, turning to look in the mirror at how it fell down her back. "It's perfect," she praised. "Thank you, sweetheart. Well, it appears we are ready. Shall we head off to Rhunön's?"

"After we eat again," Varhog said. Once they had, they descended from their tree house to make their way to Rhunön's atrium.


	3. Steel-silk Armor

3\. Steel-silk Armor

Willow and Varhog walked slowly, enjoying the breathtaking sights and tantalizing smells of Ellesméra in the middle of a vibrant spring. When they reached the tunnel of dogwoods, the trees now created a shady path under their interwoven branches, a full canopy of leaves overhead. Willow commented on how quaint it was. Sunset was waiting for them by the entrance to the tunnel, as was Black Thunder, though he could no longer enter through it with the thickness of the foliage. He was too tall, and no matter how he crouched, he couldn't fit under the branches, which had been nearly impassable for him when bare. Sunset teased him as she followed Willow and Varhog into Rhunön's atrium, promising she would show him the steel-silk armor through mental images.

As Willow, Varhog, and Sunset approached the forge, they heard voices and realized that Eragon, Arya, and Brom were already there. Rhunön was cradling the baby in her arms, crooning in her raspy, gruff voice. She looked up in obvious disappointment as the newcomers stopped in front of them.

"When I first learned you were back, I expected you would come as soon as you could this morning, you two," Rhunön said. "But you didn't come, and I soon grew impatient. That is, until these other three showed up, and then I wished you would sleep until midafternoon. What a precious boy," she crowed, looking down at Brom. "You know, princess, I remember the day _you_ were born as if it was yesterday. There was such great rejoicing that the queen would have a baby. I finally got a turn to hold you after what seemed like an eternity, with all who wanted the honor. The queen was much like you, jealously possessive of her precious daughter, knowing those early days and weeks would fly by so quickly and you would grow and change. But you looked just like this angel, Arya. A great tuft of thick, black hair and bright eyes. It seems they'll take after yours, doesn't it? No offense, Shadeslayer," she said with a quick glance at Eragon. "Brown is fine, but your wife's emerald green is just mesmerizing."

Eragon only laughed. "None taken, I assure you, honored one. I couldn't agree more. I hope they do. Then I'll have the privilege of looking into two equally beautiful sets of stunning green eyes every day. I enjoy hearing you reminisce about Arya as a baby. It's hard for me to imagine that time, as _long_ ago as it was." He grinned at his wife, who looked up at him in amused exasperation. Arya and Rhunön were sitting in the yew branch hammock outside one half-wall of Rhunön's forge.

"Not so very long, when you've lived as long as I have," Rhunön said, her attention once again captivated by Brom, who seemed interested in her strange, unfamiliar voice. She held him as long as she could, but Brom soon began sucking on his hand and searching hopefully for Arya, whose voice he could hear. "He's often a hungry lad, isn't he? This will be the third time he has wanted to eat since you arrived less than two hours ago."

"You waited that long!" Willow exclaimed. "Oh, I'm so sorry. I was so lazy this morning. We would have hurried had we known."

"No, no," Rhunön reassured as she handed the baby back to Arya. "That was a unique honor. One I would have welcomed just as long as the Shadeslayers saw fit to extend it."

Brom was soon happily nursing, and Arya's face glowed with happiness. Rhunön appeared to want an answer to her previous question, so Arya said, "Yes, he does often want to nurse, which of course is perfectly fine with me. You should be grateful too, Rhunön-elda. If I wasn't guaranteed to have him back in my arms so frequently, I wouldn't so easily relinquish my hold on him. He's already so much larger than when he was born a month ago."

Rhunön didn't ask about the birth, so Willow assumed the topic had already been addressed. Rhunön stood, insisting Willow sit in her place and confirming Willow's assumption when she said, "So you saved their baby by praying, and some heavenly beings appeared to bless him?"

"Almost," Willow said. "When I prayed, the woman I prayed to, Rahna, simply told us that she wasn't the steward of the elves and that Arya needed only call on her. So it was actually Arya who prayed and saved her baby's life. I just gave her the idea. She had the faith for the miracle to work, so it did. Apparently that's how things like that work, so long as it's in accordance with the will of the heavens, which, thankfully, it was in this instance."

Arya pensively replied, "I never thought about it like that before, Willow. I've always given you full credit for saving Brom's life. You just made it sound like it was my doing."

"It was, Arya," Willow insisted. "It seemed very clear to me that you needed to be the one to call on them and that Ellei-an and Gelarik came only because you did. And then it seemed that Gelarik was only able to perform the miracle because you believed he could. You saved your baby, Arya. Your faith produced the miracle. You really are the Life-Bringer, in more ways than one." Arya's eyes filled with tears, and Willow smiled. "Now you _really_ needn't feel like you owe me anything, though I never did to begin with."

"No, that's not it," Arya insisted. "I know you never felt like we were in your debt, though _we_ still do, even with this new perspective. You still gave me the idea. It just gave me insight into my abilities. I have never considered myself a person of faith. I'm an elf! We don't have faith! We are governed by logic and have faith only in our own abilities with magic. But that changed irrevocably at Brom's birth. I'll never again doubt that faith can allow me to tap into a greater power."

Rhunön appeared thoughtful at this conversation, and Willow knew she was also having everything she had ever believed as an elf challenged in a very insistent manner. "So four witnesses to a baby being raised from the dead?" Rhunön mused.

"No, even more!" Willow cried. "Hanin, Maehrí, Murtagh, Nasuada, and Elva were all there. Angela and Solembum too, but now they've gone up to heaven to be with her parents and husband. So that would give you nine living witnesses of the miracle, along with everything else they taught us the next day. Kind of hard to say we all just made it up, don't you think?"

"Indeed," Rhunön agreed. "Well, would you like to have a look at your armor? It's all finished, and it turned out beautifully. Better than I ever imagined. How are you, by the way, my dear? Your womb is growing impressively."

Willow rubbed her belly. "I'm fine, thank you. Physically, at least."

"What about the other ways? They're just as important."

"This morning was hard emotionally," Willow admitted, "when I finally found the courage to confess to Varhog how frightened I am to think about having to use this coat you made me. You seem certain I will, and I hate the idea of having to fight ever again, especially an Urgal ram. I want to be a mother."

"You will be, my dear," Rhunön said. "And much more. The armor will help you ensure that good will prevail in the land. I don't know any more than that, but I feel certain it will keep you from coming to any harm."

"That's good, at least," Willow allowed. "Yes, let's see it."

Rhunön led them into the forge. If they had looked over—and Varhog actually already had—they would have seen the armor before, hanging on the bust Rhunön had made to get it the size right. The shirt was stunning to behold, with a pastel version of Sunset's hue and a shimmery, translucent quality due to the presence of the brightsteel and spider silk. It was completely seamless and looked like the upper half of an elegant evening gown, for the weaving was so fine that the armor appeared to be as soft and malleable as silk. The long sleeves extended down to where Willow's knuckles would be, though Rhunön hadn't put that much detail on the bust. At about the middle of the upper chest, there were laces that allowed the coat to open enough to be pulled on overhead. When unlaced, as it was then, the flaps folded down, giving the garment the appearance of a collared shirt. With the laces done up, Willow's neck would be enclosed right up to her jaw.

Willow made a sound of amazement as she approached and ran her hand over the garment. "It's exquisite," she breathed. "It feels so soft and is more elegant than any clothing I have ever owned. I can't believe I used to look like this," she finished with an incredulous giggle as she ran her hand over the narrow waist. The coat extended far enough to cover her hips.

"When the laces are done up, you'll be completely covered from your neck down to your hips, except for your fingertips," Rhunön said. "And yet, as you said, it will look like you're wearing the top part of an elegant evening gown. No one will ever suspect the true properties of the armor, and it would be wise not to let on. This piece of armor is priceless and completely unprecedented. There will never be another like it, for I cannot foresee another situation where spiders would again lend their assistance, and that is the only way I came to craft it as I did. Under my instruction, we worked together to weave the coat in this seamless manner. They manipulated the strands while I magically linked them, directing them to take on the mechanical properties that would permit them to contract into an impenetrable shield under the slightest force. But it only works in one direction. When you are wearing it, your movements will be as free and unrestricted as if you truly were wearing a thin, nearly weightless silk jacket. However, from the outside, no pressure great or small will penetrate in to affect you.

"Now that the forging is complete, the only magical properties are those inherent in the materials from which it is composed. But brightsteel, dragon's scales, and spider silk—in and of themselves—are not magical substances. What I mean is, I did not imbue it with other magical abilities, as I do your blades. It will not withstand certain magical attacks, such as those that might be directed at your body underneath, but barring those, it is otherwise invincible. It can repel the greatest force, is indestructible by heat or fire, and cannot be pierced by any blade. I think it is safe to say that this is my crowning achievement as a master blacksmith. I wish you could try it on now. Perhaps Arya would be interested. Or since I'm the only female without a protective mate near at hand, I might be the best choice to demonstrate the armor's capabilities. Before I don it, however, let's have Sunset test its heat-resistant capacity."

Rhunön grabbed the bust, took it out of the forge, and laid it near Sunset. She protected the ground underneath and all around with wards to keep it from being incinerated, extending her wards to protect all of the rest of them so they could observe from nearby.

"Bathe it in your hottest flames, Sunset," Rhunön instructed. Sunset eyed her apprehensively then stood tall and arched her neck, pointing her jaws straight down toward the armor. She took in a deep breath before loosing a blistering stream of sunset-colored fire, which lit up the whole atrium like the real-world counterpart did to an evening sky.

 _How long should I keep this up?_ the dragon wondered after about twenty seconds.

"As long as you can," Rhunön answered.

 _That is many minutes,_ Sunset returned in concern. _Will your trees be safe in the presence of such heat?_

"If they appear to be in danger, I'll let you know," Rhunön said, but she said nothing for the next several minutes, and Sunset finally ran out of breath. After the dragon stopped, everyone was amazed to see the armor just as it had been, though they expected it to be a puddle of brightsteel.

"Amazing," Eragon breathed. "How can it withstand the same magnitude of heat that first caused the brightsteel to be molten?"

"Thanks to the essence of dragon's scales that permeates every fiber of every strand," Rhunön informed him in zealous fervor. "Varhog, now take your blade and slash at it as hard as you can. No, come to think of it, we already know what happens when you do that. Drive your sword into the area over the heart, as if trying to stab it to death. Go on. Just be careful of your face."

Varhog did as Rhunön asked, ensuring that most of his strength was directed at his grip on his sword as he attempted to pierce through the chest area of the coat. His sword rebounded toward his face, and he narrowly dodged it. Then he sheathed his sword and, without being asked, jumped on the armor as hard as he could, which did nothing. So Varhog picked it up, crushing it to his chest. Regular steel armor would have buckled under his brute force, but Willow's coat remained whole.

Willow arched one eyebrow as she thought of another use for the armor in addition to its protective purposes, but she decided to wait until she and Varhog were alone to share it with him.

Varhog put the armor down, saying to Sunset, "Now you. Try to damage it. With your teeth, your claws, by stomping on it. Anything you can think of."

Sunset obliged by taking the armor in her jaws and crunching down on it. Her razor-sharp teeth could easily pierce through the thickest, strongest steel, but she only succeeding in giving herself a toothache when she tried to damage Willow's coat. She spit it out with an amused look at Willow, who laughed at her dragon's thoughts, then jumped on it, closing her claws around it. Neither powerful movement did anything to scratch or damage the armor.

Everyone was exceedingly impressed, but especially Rhunön, who reverently said, "Good. Thank you, Varhog. I wouldn't have thought to try it next to a dragon, but that merely further proves its worth. Now I will put it on and spar with one of you to demonstrate its flexibility. I saw that you all doubted its invincibility, but now that there is no question about that, you wonder how it could possibly move with any freedom and ease. We'll see how it does."

Rhunön took the coat off the bust, which was completely intact, though it had been subjected to immeasurable heat from Sunset's flames and the massive force of both Varhog's and Sunset's strength. In Rhunön's hands the garment flowed like a silk scarf and shimmered like precious jewels. She pulled it on over her head and asked, "Who would like to be my opponent?"

Arya volunteered, "Last time I tried, poor Brom suffered, but he's as safe as can be now and sleeping soundly, so I'll give his father a turn holding him for the first time this morning and get some exercise."

"Good. Willow, do you have your sword here somewhere?" Rhunön asked.

"In Sunset's saddlebags," Willow replied. Varhog retrieved it for Rhunön, and Arya borrowed Brisingr from Eragon, since she hadn't thought to bring Támerlein.

Rhunön admired Willow's blade yet again. "Have you named it?" she wondered.

"Yes," Willow replied with an apologetic shrug, "but I'm afraid it's not very inventive. I'm not very original when it comes to names. I just go with whatever is most logical. I call it Diamondfire, since the diamond looks like Sunset's fire."

"Diamondfire," Rhunön repeated. "It's perfect. I love it. What about you, Varhog?"

Varhog also shrugged. "Willow is like the Urgralgra in that way. We often name things according to their truest descriptions, which is one reason I liked her suggestion to call her 'Eartheyes.' Or why we call Eragon 'Firesword' and Saphira 'Flametongue.' It's also why Black Thunder has that name, though it sounds more impressive in Urgralish. My sword's name is also Urgralish. 'Drajavek.' It's hard to translate literally because it's actually just a play on words. We have a derogatory word 'drajl,' which basically means 'spawn of maggots'. We—well, I don't personally—but collectively we say it as an insult for someone or something we hate above all else. So in my mind, 'draja' is just the embodiment of all that I hate, all that is bad or evil. 'Vek' could be roughly translated as 'vex,' though it's more in the sense of 'an opponent' or 'to oppose.' It's common in a lot of our words, which Willow can appreciate, such as the Bolvek tribe, or King Kulkarvek. We have a brother-in-law named Tarhvek. It basically means that the first part of the name is in opposition to the last. So with my sword, it means 'Opposer of Evil' or 'The Vexer of Evil.' I realize how destructive such a blade is in my hands, so I wanted its very name to be an extension of the vow I made when I forged it, namely that I will only ever use it to oppose evil and never in pursuing it."

Rhunön regarded him carefully, approval in her eyes. "I'm impressed yet again, Urgal, by your wisdom and insight, as well as your commitment to uphold righteousness and justice. Drajavek. A noble name for a noble weapon for a noble warrior. I'm honored to know you, Varhog."

Varhog turned his hand over his collarbone in an elven gesture of respect. "And I'm honored to know you, wise one. Thank you for crafting this garment for my wife. If there truly does come a time when it saves her life, then I will be eternally grateful."

Rhunön nodded. "Let me quickly inscribe your swords with their names. Though there isn't a glyph in this language to encompass the word 'Drajavek.' Will you show me in my mind what the word looks like in Urgralish?" Varhog did, and Rhunön quickly accomplished her task. Then she turned to Arya. "Shall we begin, princess? Are you sure you're up to this?"

"Of course," Arya replied. "I know you're a skilled swordsman, Rhunön-elda. Eragon is the best one here, no doubt. Varhog is also excellent. I'm rusty, as are you, I'm sure, no disrespect intended. We're the most equally matched. And as I said, I simply want the exercise now that I know Brom is perfectly safe and I'm not as awkward as I was before."

Rhunön accepted her explanation without comment, the twinkle in her eye as Arya implied she was rusty revealing that she was not at all offended. They fenced for a number of minutes with impressive grace, agility, strength, and form for one so old and one who had so recently given birth.

The point of the exercise was to demonstrate the indestructible nature of Willow's armor, so Rhunön had insisted Arya not dull the edge of Brisingr's blade. Eragon had been concerned, knowing any Rider's blade could easily slice through almost any material as effortlessly as if that material was soft butter. But no matter how Arya slashed or stabbed, the armor repelled every strike.

When Rhunön called for them to stop, Arya asked if she could try the armor on. "I'm so curious about how it feels," she admitted. "It's obviously impenetrable, but it moves so perfectly with you. I've never seen armor its equal."

"No, and you never shall again. Kings, generals, warriors would pay fortunes for something such as this, but the only one worthy to wear it is the one who earned it by her complete uniqueness and modest nature. Willow never sought this out and shudders to think of the day she might need to use it. That is the reason I made it and the reason the spiders lent their assistance." Rhunön loosened the laces at her throat, removing the garment by pulling it off over her head. It stretched with her movements, though when on, it hugged her form almost rigidly.

Arya slid it on over her head, exclaiming softly, "It feels as exquisite as it looks. I've never worn something that fits so perfectly and moves so fluidly. It is practically weightless. How did you manage that, Rhunön-elda? This is steel we're talking about."

"Because the strands were as fine as the spider's silk they were entwined with, and the spiders helped me weave it, so I didn't need to use links or any other material but the feather-light steel-silk itself."

"It's beautiful," Eragon observed. "You look lovelier in that than anything else I've ever seen you in. I can imagine how it would look on you if it had the color of Fírnen's scales. It will be very becoming on Willow with how her dragon's hue complements her coloring." Varhog nodded his agreement.

Arya walked over to Eragon. "Hug me as tightly as you can," she instructed, stopping right in front of him.

Eragon grinned. "Rhunön, would you like to hold Brom again?"

"With pleasure," the old elf woman said, quickly walking over and accepting the baby. Eragon put his arms around Arya and crushed her to his chest, squeezing as tightly as he could, even with his hands on her shoulders, which would have been enough to crush most of the bones in her torso.

Arya tilted her face toward him and smiled. "I can't even feel it," she admitted, almost regretfully.

"I like being able to hold you so tightly without worrying about hurting you." To Rhunön, Eragon teasingly said, "Are you sure you won't ever make another like this?"

Rhunön laughed gruffly, as did Willow. "Arya thought of the other use I did when I first saw Varhog try to crush it," Willow said. "You two can borrow it. I won't be able to use it for at least another couple of months. Put it to good use. Maybe having a coat of armor that protects me from my neck to my hips won't be as limited in its applications as I first thought. When not used for the making of war, I plan to use it frequently in the making of love. That will be interesting, don't you agree, Yelloweyes?"

"That _will_ be different," Varhog agreed. "Though probably more enjoyable for me than you, since you won't even be able to feel my strength. It will be nice not to have to worry about any self-restraint, at least in that sense. It's always present currently, since I know how easily I could kill you."

Eragon nodded sympathetically. "There have been numerous times when I was grateful I could kill a man with the strength of my bare hands, but never once have I felt that way with Arya in my arms. I always have to be careful, and I'm not nearly as strong as you, Varhog. Are you sure you don't mind if we borrow it?"

"Not at all," Varhog said.

Rhunön's rough laugh rasped forth again. "You four are insufferable. Everything seems to lead to talk of that with any of you around. Well, I'm glad my armor will be put to good, frequent use, no matter what that use is. You should be able to wash it with warm water and mild soap. It will air dry. You need never worry about rust or oiling it or any of the other usual concerns. Go on, be off with you. I can see that the princess is as eager as anyone to try your intended design. The best thanks you can give me is using my creations well and honorably. I suppose this counts."

Arya removed the armor and handed it to Eragon so she could take Brom from Rhunön and begin feeding him again.

As Willow got awkwardly to her feet, Varhog said, "I do have a favor to ask in return, however. You two are the only others besides me, Willow, and Rhunön who know about the true properties of this armor. The others who have heard mention of it haven't seen what it is capable of. For Willow's safety, will you please keep it that way? If she ever has to face an Urgal while wearing it, they might wonder why she chose such a fine garment to fight in, but they'll never suspect that it is protective gear. If they do at all, it will only be after it's too late."

"Of course," Eragon and Arya said at the same time.

"This knowledge is safe with us," Eragon finished by himself.

Willow went over to Rhunön and gave her the best approximation of a hug she could manage. "Thank you, Rhunön-elda," she earnestly said. "Thank you for going to all of this effort in designing and crafting this armor. I'll wear it proudly and bear myself honorably while I do."

"I have no doubt of it," Rhunön replied. "I wouldn't have bothered with anyone other than yourself, my dear. Such is the impression you made on me right from the start. Well, the Shadeslayers informed me of your plans and that you wish to continue on in your travels as soon as possible, so if I don't see you again, consider this farewell. Good luck with your birth and those babies. Send me word somehow, if you can. You can scry me using my water pail right there. I'm usually here during the day. Take care, Shadeslayers, Varhog. I have enjoyed this time, though I shouldn't admit it."

"Goodbye," Willow said, tears springing unbidden to her eyes. She walked to Varhog's side before she could begin blubbering, and Varhog repeated his thanks, echoing Willow's farewell, as did Eragon and Arya, before they all exited Rhunön's atrium through the dogwood tunnel.


	4. Yazuac

4\. Yazuac

The Riders left Ellesméra the next morning and traveled as swiftly as they could, stopping in every city along the way so Willow would have a bed. After Osilon and Ceunon, they sent Fírnen and Black Thunder on to Varhog's village in an effort to avoid riling up King Kulkarvek. Roran knew to expect them in Therinsford, which is where they next flew. Flying there from Ellesméra had taken them over a fortnight. Willow was thirty-four weeks pregnant and completely miserable, though she never complained.

Rather than going on ahead to Varhog's village as she once thought they might, Willow insisted on visiting Roran and Katrina with Eragon and Arya, as it was a slightly shorter flight than the one from Ceunon to Yazuac. Since she could barely stand to sleep on the ground, she welcomed the chance to be in a bed, though it meant that the trip to Varhog's village would be longer. They planned to stop in Yazuac to break up the normally short flight from Therinsford to Lake Fläm.

Eragon's family was delighted to see all four of the Riders again. They were especially thrilled to meet Brom and to see how much Willow's belly had grown. As planned, though Roran tried to talk them out of it, their visit was brief. Roran and his oldest children were extremely busy tending their fields, which they had planted some weeks earlier. Their location so far north in the mountains forced them to wait until later in the season to avoid late frosts, and Roran had to be most attentive to ensure that his crops would be successful. Taking even a few days to travel to Therinsford for the visit was a considerable sacrifice.

So they stayed one full day and left the following morning, taking their time to wind through the valley and around the lone peak Utgard as they headed south toward Yazuac. When they got within sight, Eragon had Saphira land, so Sunset followed.

Once all four Riders were on the ground, Eragon explained, "After Saphira and I left Carvahall with my father Brom, just months after she first hatched, this is one of the first villages we came to. It had been massacred by Urgals. All of the people were slaughtered, their bodies piled up in the town square with a tiny infant skewered on a spear at the top." Varhog's face took on a pained look.

"It was horrible," Eragon continued. "Garzhvog has assured me that crimes of equal brutality have been committed by humans against Urgralgra villages, where all innocent residents were also murdered in senseless hate. I'm not casting blame here, nor am I dwelling on this to make us all depressed. I simply think it would be wise to assume that Varhog's presence will not be cheerfully greeted in this village. Though that incident was over twelve years ago, I would imagine there's still deep fear and hatred toward Urgals in general. I thought it prudent to warn you so we could plan accordingly. It is now late afternoon, but Daret is not far distant. Perhaps we could try there instead, though all of these northern villages most likely feel much the same. At least Tomath's family might willingly accept Varhog."

"Yarbog went with that raid," Varhog said in a troubled tone, "but most of the rams were from the Tintog clan, which was notoriously more violent. It's so hard for me to understand now, though at the time, I didn't care as much as I should have when he came back bragging about what they had done. I can see why most of the slaughter of humans was done by the younger rams, those without mates who still sought to prove their eligibility. Now that I know how similar our newborn cubs look to those borne by humans, I just don't see how a ram who is a sire could ever look at a human child and take its life." He was silent for a time.

Then he went on, "Relations between our races will never heal if we fear to face those we wronged in the past and apologize for those atrocities. And Willow needs to rest. We'll most likely meet with hostility, but I believe we can work through it. If not, we'll leave. I'm willing to try." He looked at Willow.

"Yes, sweetheart," she agreed, "as am I. I can go on ahead and see about securing some rooms at an inn, if they have something like that. I might be the least unusual-looking of our party, at least in this town, though I'm clothed rather differently from what they'll be used to seeing. What do you think? We can walk from here to there so our dragons don't draw undue notice, then I'll go ahead on foot and you all can follow after a time."

"That sounds like as good a plan as any I could come up with," Eragon said. "Your ears are becoming more pointed, but they're not nearly as pronounced as mine. And your hair will do a better job of hiding them. You have a way with people, Willow. Everyone who meets you soon loves you. I think you're our best hope."

"Do we have any reason to fear for her safety?" Varhog asked in concern.

"Not that I'm aware of, at least as long as they remain ignorant of her relationship with you," Eragon replied. "Hopefully before that comes to light, she'll have had a chance to make a good impression. I wouldn't anticipate any conflict until you show up, in which case she'll be perfectly safe, since you could take them all out with your bare hands. But it won't come to that. We'll leave if it looks like things might get violent."

Varhog nodded. "It is still some distance, Eartheyes. Are you sure you want to walk?"

"Yes," Willow said firmly. "If I tire before we reach the village, I'll sit on Sunset while she walks, but it feels so good to be standing after sitting for so long."

So they made their way toward Yazuac on foot, approaching from the direction that allowed them to avoid the fields of the many farmers. Once they reached the outskirts, they had not spotted nor been seen by any residents of the town. Willow went ahead by herself with a cheerful wave back toward the others.

Willow walked without any bags or weapons, wanting to seem less conspicuous. But her leather leggings and fitted, elbow-length shirt, along with her knee-high leather riding boots, were far different from the modest dresses of the women she passed in the town. She was taller than any of them and though so very pregnant, she still stood with the air of authority shared by all of the Dragon Riders. In spite of that, Willow smiled at everyone she saw, meeting their eyes with kindness when they looked at her. She could see that her appearance was quite shocking to them, though they must surely have had travelers in their village from time to time. But she doubted they were ever tall, pregnant females clothed as she was, apparently traveling alone, who seemed unafraid and kind at the same time.

She addressed a young man she passed who met her gaze with more confidence than most of the others. "Good evening, sir. I'm looking for an inn. Would you be willing to point me in the right direction?"

He pointed and said, "Follow this road until that sign up ahead. Take a right and follow that road until it ends. You'll be at the nearest inn."

"Thank you," Willow said. "Is there more than one inn, then?"

"Only one other," he answered.

"That might be helpful," she said, smiling kindly. "Who might I ask for when I arrive?"

He stammered, "Gareth is the innkeeper's name."

"I appreciate your help, young man," Willow said, and he bowed slightly, obviously feeling like he should. Willow's eyes twinkled in amusement. She couldn't be much older than he was, but she saw that he was intensely curious about her. "Good evening," she said, turning to go.

"Good evening," he called after her.

Willow followed his directions, soon arriving at the inn and walking right in. She had passed a young woman who must have been about fifteen, and Willow felt such compassion for the girl, who seemed shy and awkward and regarded her with amazed deference as she passed. Willow remembered being exactly like that girl at the same age, and yet now she felt so confident and sure of herself. She knew she seemed tall and strong and powerful to these humble villagers, but she was just one of them, given a unique calling and opportunity in her life. Had the Riders remained in Alagaёsia, these people might know her, just as she knew of Eragon and Murtagh. The Riders were legendary, and since they were so mysterious in their remote location, Willow was sure rumors and falsehoods about them abounded.

The room fell silent as she entered, and Willow approached the bar, aware of people trailing in behind her in hopes of figuring out who she was and why she was there.

Willow smiled at the man standing behind the bar, and he returned her gaze, attempting to keep his expression neutral, though she could see the same surprise in his eyes as had been in everyone else's.

"Good evening, sir. I'm looking for the innkeeper, Gareth. Might that be you?"

"Aye, that's correct," Gareth cautiously replied. He appeared to be past middle age, with graying hair at his temples and a slight softness about his waist.

"Wonderful," Willow said. "I'm Willow. As you can surely see, I'm not from here and I come seeking lodging for the evening. Do you happen to have two rooms available?"

"Two? All for you?" he wondered in disbelief before reining in his expression, looking apologetic.

"No, though I probably _could_ make a case for needing two, what with my enormous size," Willow said with an easy laugh.

Gareth smiled. "You do appear to be nearly at your time," he boldly said, then once again realized he might have spoken out of turn and looked worried.

Willow laughed again. "You must be experienced in these matters. Are you a father?"

"Aye, of eight fine children," Gareth proudly answered.

"Eight! How splendid! Sons, daughters, some of each?" Willow wondered eagerly, truly interested in the humble man, just as she was in all people.

"We first had a daughter, then seven strong sons followed. My wife kept wanting another daughter for the oldest, but by the time she could have no more, the daughter was married and had a daughter of her own. She now has four daughters. Seems she got the younger sisters she always wanted, only as daughters."

"Oh, how lovely!" Willow exclaimed. "So at least four grandchildren. Any more?"

"Aye. My four oldest sons are married. Between them, I have six grandchildren and one on the way."

"That makes ten altogether, right?" Willow confirmed.

"That's right," Gareth agreed.

"My husband comes from a family of eight children, and we have fourteen nieces and nephews," Willow said. "My own birth family has all passed away, so marrying into that was a dream come true." Willow kept asking questions, getting the man to talk about his family for another ten minutes. When Gareth seemed to realize all his talking might be rude, he silenced himself, but Willow was perfectly at ease.

She said, "This is a lovely place you have here. Have you always been innkeeper?"

"For about twelve years," Gareth responded, and Willow remembered the number from Eragon's reminiscing. "We moved up here from Daret after the massacre. Bad times, they were."

"Do you happen to have those two rooms?" Willow gently reminded.

"What? Oh yes! For a paying customer, I have two rooms free."

"Well, I'm a paying customer," she said, smiling.

"You mentioned a husband," Gareth said. "Where is he? Why did you come here alone? And you're dressed so differently from anyone I've ever seen."

Willow saw that it was her turn to answer questions, but the man seemed genuinely interested, just as she was. "Yes, my husband stayed behind with the others in our party to tend to our mounts. I'm dressed this way because riding sidesaddle in my condition might be even more uncomfortable than having to ride in the first place. Though I appear to be at my time or beyond, I still actually have five weeks before I reach full term, which makes me thinks I'm most likely carrying twins." She of course _knew_ she was having twins, but she also knew Gareth would be confused if she acted so certain.

"Is that so?" Gareth declared. "Well, congratulations then, Willow. You could have put your horses up in my stable for the night."

Willow grinned. "I think our mounts will be more comfortable where we left them."

Willow could see that he was curious, but he didn't press the matter. "Well, will your husband and these others be along shortly? He must be quite the man to have won someone like yourself."

"Thank you, kind sir!" Willow said. "My husband is the most amazing man in the world, and _he_ feels extremely blessed to have me, though I assure you, I am the more fortunate of the two of us. You'll never meet a kinder, gentler, more thoughtful person in all your life."

"With praise such as that, I'm most anxious to meet him. Will he be coming soon?"

Willow assumed a worried look, which she partly feigned and partly didn't. "I'm afraid you might not be as anxious to meet him as you say. He stayed behind for another reason. Though it pains me to say, I fear he will be most unwelcome here."

"No, surely not!" Gareth exclaimed. "Why would that be?"

"Most people who meet him immediately fear and hate him," Willow said sadly. "If they could see past his appearance, they would come to know the kindest, wisest person, but most refuse to see past his face."

"Is he deformed?" Gareth wondered, unable to understand why Willow would say such a thing.

"No, not at all. His face is perfectly formed for one of his race and quite handsome, if you ask me. Though I'm quite biased, as you can imagine."

Gareth's face took on a strange look at the word 'race.' "He is of a different race? Did you marry an elf?"

"No, sir," Willow said, very quietly adding, "My husband is an Urgal ram."

Gareth tensed, his expression transforming to one of stunned shock. The relative silence in the room as most people listened to the conversation became profound and complete. "An _Urgal_?" Gareth repeated. "Are you trying to be funny?"

"No, Gareth," Willow said seriously. "Some who know me might think I'm funny, but all who know me would unfailingly agree that my most defining characteristic is honesty. I'm telling you the truth. I'm married to an Urgal ram, and as I said before, he is the kindest, gentlest, most thoughtful person I have ever met."

"That's impossible," Gareth denied firmly.

"Not only is it possible," Willow said gently, "it is true. I married him because he's my best friend and I love him. If you would look past his horns and his eyes, you would see what I have come to see in the eight years I've known him. He's kind and wise and selfless—a _person,_ not a monster. He fought with the Varden against Galbatorix, but since the end of the war, he has never taken a life in cold blood."

Gareth struggled to reply to this. "How would you have even met him? You aren't from up north. I can tell from your voice. Where _are_ you from anyway? And why are you up here?" He was growing suspicious.

Willow sighed sadly. "I wish you wouldn't distrust me, Gareth. Everything I've told you is true. I'm originally from Feinster, which is where I lived when my dragon, Sunset, hatched for me, though that happened in Ilirea. I'm a Dragon Rider, sir. I met my husband on the Isle of the Eldunarí. He was there because he is the first Urgal Dragon Rider—Varhog of the Bolvek tribe, which dwells just southwest of Daret near Lake Fläm. We're here with two other Dragon Riders, Eragon and Arya Shadeslayer, whose names you surely recognize. We were visiting Eragon's cousin, Roran Stronghammer, Earl of Palancar Valley, and we are traveling back to my husband's village so we can be there when I have these babies. Traveling is extremely uncomfortable for me, so we decided to stop here overnight so I can rest in a bed rather than on the ground. That is the full and honest truth. If you can't peacefully accept my husband here, then I'll trouble you no longer. If you are certain the other innkeeper would feel the same, we'll stay outside of town where our dragons are and leave you in peace. I am weary, Gareth. What say you?"

Gareth was once again silent, his mask of shock as pronounced as before. Finally he managed to say, "Do you know what Urgals once did to the village of Yazuac?"

"I do," Willow replied. "Right before we got here, Eragon told us of the tragedy that befell those poor, innocent people. He and his dragon chanced upon it just after it happened. Hearing the account deeply troubled my husband. His older brother was with the rams who attacked and killed them all. I even know they speared a tiny baby, leaving it atop the pile of bodies. As you can likely guess, that's the most abominable crime imaginable in my mind. And Varhog's too. He's so kind and tender with children, and he's so excited to be a father. If you would only look past that he's an Urgal, or even better, accept that he's an Urgal and also capable of being humane and compassionate, you would come to see the truest, most loyal friend, someone who would give his life for another."

Tears came to Willow's eyes in her sincerity. "We cannot even begin to enumerate all of the ways Urgals have wronged humans in the past many centuries, but let us not forget how many times humans have also wronged Urgals. I have lived among them, Gareth. Their culture is completely misunderstood, but it would do no good for me to go into all that when I can see that you're still having trouble accepting that I'm married to an Urgal and expecting his children. He grows worried. My dragon just told me that, and I hear her in my mind. Will you still consent to letting us two rooms, or shall I simply leave?"

"I . . . I hardly know what to say, Willow," Gareth confessed. "To have four Dragon Riders stay here—among them the two most famous in Alagaёsia for bringing down Galbatorix and Shruikan—would be an incredible honor, but my prejudice toward Urgals runs so deep. Don't they feel the same way about humans? Why would he have wanted to marry you?"

Willow smiled, sitting on one of the barstools since her pelvis was aching from standing for so long. "The first thing that struck him about me was that I was completely unafraid of him, completely unbiased. I was interested in getting to know him as a person, and I didn't let any preconceived notions about him being an Urgal get in my way. That impressed him, but it was when I was able to subdue him in hand-to-hand combat that he knew he would always be forced to regard me as more than a friend."

" _You_ can defeat an Urgal ram in single combat?" Gareth scoffed. "Stronghammer's the only human with that reputation, and he's powerfully strong."

"I'm not powerfully strong, though I'm strong for a human female thanks to my bond with a dragon. But I'm quick, and my smaller size makes it possible. I jump on his back, cinch my arms around his neck, and hold tightly until he loses consciousness, or nearly does, at least. I've only actually made him go unconscious twice in all the times we've fought. One of those times was when I had to prove to his village that I was worthy to have him as my mate, because you're right, Gareth. Urgals generally find humans as repulsive as the other way around and his clan wouldn't accept that Varhog wanted me as his mate. I had to fight three rams that day, and I subdued them all, even their war chief, Nar Garzhvog, who is a Kull warrior."

"That's amazing," Gareth said in awe. "I want to let you these two rooms, but I'm worried about how the villagers will receive an Urgal ram. Most will run out into the streets with their weapons, prepared to hack him to the ground."

"That won't happen," Willow said. "I'll go. It might be best, so he doesn't come looking for me, if you're so sure that will be the reaction. He's terrifyingly strong and deadly when he wants to be, which is rarely. But when my safety is in question, he is."

"Blast, Willow! Now I'm so curious to meet this Urgal ram who sounds like such a conundrum for one of his race. I'll come with you to escort you back to my inn, but he had best come unarmed."

"He will," Willow promised. "He doesn't need a weapon to defend himself or me, but he won't be violent. I guarantee it. If he senses that we're not welcome, we'll leave. Just like that. All he cares about is my safety and my comfort. He hoped we could achieve both by staying here, but my safety is more important than my comfort. We'll be back home tomorrow. One more night on the ground won't kill me." She smiled and stood, noticing that a number of other people in the room did as well.

"They wouldn't miss this for the world," Gareth muttered as he grabbed a lantern. "This is the most exciting thing to ever happen in Yazuac. It will be good for them to be present as well, since they overheard everything we just said. They can help me convince any others who might object to your husband's presence."

"Thank you, Gareth," Willow said, following him out of the inn. "This means so much to me." She communicated with Sunset that she was on her way with an escort back to the inn to ensure that Varhog would not be attacked. They made their way to the outskirts of the village, but didn't have to go as far as Willow expected. Varhog, Eragon and Arya had begun walking toward the village after learning the plan from Sunset.

Willow went right to Varhog and put her arms around him. "I was getting worried, Eartheyes," he admitted.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. I got carried away chatting with the innkeeper, Gareth. He had eight children too, just like mother. Here, let me introduce you." She pulled on his hand, leading him over to Gareth. Varhog towered over him, of course, though Gareth was not overly short for a man. He was a few inches taller than Willow. "Gareth, this is my husband, Varhog. Varhog, this is Gareth, the innkeeper. He has agreed to let us stay in his inn for the night."

-:-:-

Varhog slowly extended his hand, knowing it was unlikely that the man would reciprocate his greeting. Gareth warily looked up at him without responding, so Varhog left his hand out and spoke instead. "It's nice to meet you, Gareth. Thank you for agreeing to let us stay at your inn. I know Willow will be so much more comfortable in a bed than on the ground, and that's all that matters to me. I realize how hard this must be for you since I'm an Urgal, and I appreciate that you're willing to tolerate this arrangement, though it must be only reluctantly." Varhog held his hand out a moment longer, giving the man a chance to shake it.

Gareth almost didn't, but at the last second, he raised his hand and briefly grasped Varhog's. Varhog carefully matched the innkeeper's strength so he wouldn't seem overbearing.

Gareth shook his head. "I can't believe I just shook hands with an Urgal. I don't know that I can honestly say it's nice to meet you too, Varhog, but I was _curious_ to meet you after Willow's unlikely description conflicted with every deep-seated belief I hold about Urgals. They are continuing to be challenged with every passing second. Come along before it gets much later. Meals are provided as part of the room price. Supper will still be hot if we go now."

Willow said, "Gareth, would you also like to meet Eragon and Arya?"

"What? Oh! Of course! Where are my manners? Such famous guests as these. I would be honored, most honored. We had heard rumors that the Dragon Riders had returned to Alagaёsia and that the high queen had even married one, but we never expected to see any in our humble village."

Willow smiled and said, "Gareth, meet Eragon, who truly is a human from Carvahall, as his beard clearly proves, though his ears suggest otherwise."

Eragon laughed and extended his hand. Gareth was able to accept his much more easily than he had Varhog's. "Thank you for letting us stay tonight, kind sir," Eragon said. "My wife and son will also be more comfortable in a bed than on the ground."

"Wife? Son?" Gareth repeated in confusion.

"Aye," Eragon replied. "Arya Shadeslayer—who fought determinedly by my side in the war against Galbatorix and slew his great dragon—is now my wife, and we just had our first son seven weeks ago."

Gareth turned toward Arya, who held the sleeping Brom in her arms. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Gareth," Arya said politely. "I'm most appreciative of your kindness. This is our son, Brom."

"The pleasure is all mine," Gareth stammered, amazed by the kindness and deference he was receiving from these two legendary figures. "What a beautiful child. I had eight and now have ten grandchildren, and though they were the most beautiful babies in their father's and grandfather's eyes, I truly have never seen a more beautiful child than that. With such a lovely mother and handsome father, it's no surprise, I suppose."

"Thank you," Arya murmured with a pleased smile. "You know I agree, but I'm his mother, so it hardly counts."

"I see two dragons, but should there not be four?" Gareth wondered as his eyes fell on Saphira and Sunset.

Arya answered, "My own dragon and Varhog's flew on ahead of us when we left Ceunon. The presence of so many dragons near the home of the Urgal king in Anghelm led to some conflict during the winter, and we wanted to avoid stirring it up once again. That's why you see only two. The larger blue one is Saphira, Eragon's dragon. The other is Sunset, Willow's dragon. They will stay here for the night and not disturb any of the villagers' flocks."

"What a sight! Two magnificent dragons. I consider myself a lucky man," Gareth admitted. "The Dragon Riders have been so distant for so many years that some of us started believing they meant never to return. Well, Willow, I can now see why you said your mounts would be more comfortable here. They never would have fit in my stables, now would they?"

"No, sir," Willow agreed with a weary laugh.

"You are tired, my dear," Gareth said in concern. "Let's return now before darkness falls." He turned to find a large crowd of villagers behind him. "Make way!" he called. "We have some honored guests staying in Yazuac tonight. And there had better not be any violence toward the Urgal! These Dragon Riders could no doubt kill us all, but they wish to rest peacefully in my inn, and so they will. Go on then, go on. Come meet them in the morning if you must, but let them through to a hot meal and warm bed." Gareth shooed people out of the way, and Willow fell in behind him, followed by Varhog, Arya, and Eragon.

Varhog stood at least a head taller than anyone else, and his great horns made him seem even taller. The crowd was cautiously watchful as they passed. Gareth's warning had spread ahead of them, and the story of what had transpired between Willow and Gareth in the inn was also circulating, though—as is the case with rumors—there were already misrepresentations. Muttered whispers from the villagers reached their ears, some sounding angry, some disbelieving, many amazed and wondering. All four Riders looked around themselves at the humble people, smiling in a friendly way to show they didn't think of themselves as superiors. To see Varhog smile and seem friendly was surely the most shocking sight for anyone.

They quickly arrived at the inn. Gareth's family had been notified of their father's famous guests, and they had gathered themselves together—even the small children, though it was now near their bedtime—to meet the Dragon Riders and learn if the rumors about an Urgal were true. They soon saw they were, for no one could miss Varhog. He continued to regard the villagers in patient understanding, knowing how much most of these people feared and hated everything to do with his race and hoping this could be a beginning to overcoming some of that enmity if he portrayed a different image of what an Urgal ram could be like.

One brave young man approached Varhog, though his mother fearfully tried to hold him back. "Sir," he said to Varhog, "is it true that your brother killed some of the villagers in Yazuac during the last massacre twelve years ago?"

Varhog squatted down so his head was slightly lower than the young man's. "Aye, that's true," he said softly, "though it pains me to admit it, young man."

Standing again so they could all clearly see him, Varhog raised his voice so everyone would hear. "I know it can hardly even begin to make up for it, but I'm so sorry for how much you have suffered and feared because of my race. We were often deserving of the hatred we received. Our enmity is based on so much misunderstanding. Thanks to my beautiful wife here—a human who has never feared or hated me from the moment we first met—I was able to realize just how wrong I was to believe as I did. We have come to love one another and our respective races, and we hope that will be an example for humans and Urgals everywhere as we slowly work to repair past wrongs and establish peace.

"We Urgals are trying to change our ways and make the inevitable conflict of the past less common. Not all of the clans feel exactly as mine, but we're working on it, for your safety and ours. I'm so sorry to everyone here who remembers the brutality of that massacre twelve years ago. I can barely imagine how traumatizing that would have been. It angers and saddens me that my people, even one of my own brothers, were responsible for that death and carnage. I'm getting ready to become a father for the first time, and such senseless violence fills me with dread. If we can't overcome our hatred and enmity, we need all fear the future our children might live in this land. For the sake of our children, let us lay aside our differences and begin to understand one another better. Both Willow and I have lived among Urgals and humans in the months of our marriage, and the children in each village were always the first to accept the different one. They have always been the example of acceptance and friendship. I humbly ask you to consider following it."

Varhog ended his stirring speech, and more than one eye was teary as the people heard it. Here was an Urgal ram who spoke eloquently, with words of apology and regret. He spoke of peace and friendship, which was almost impossible for them to believe, but it planted the seed, and some began nurturing it. It was a start.


	5. Back Home

5\. Back Home

The Riders ended up staying in Yazuac for a few days, where the people benefitted from the opportunity to interact with Dragon Riders, especially since one of them was an Urgal who was every moment challenging their every view of what an Urgal ram was. Varhog was himself, and everyone who spent even a few minutes around him saw how earnestly thoughtful he was of Willow, how much he loved her, and that all he wanted was her happiness and comfort. They continued to see how wise and well-spoken he was. He never raised his voice or a hand in violence. As he had shared, the children's curiosity led them to approach him, and he played with them as gently and sweetly as he always did with children, much to the anxiety of the onlooking mothers.

Willow was always near at hand, however, and she made friends with everyone who would speak to her. She reassured these worried women that their children were never safer than while playing with Varhog, and they couldn't doubt the truth of her words as they witnessed his affectionate, untiring play.

When Willow was a day shy of thirty-five weeks pregnant, she informed Gareth that they would be departing for Varhog's village the next day. The innkeeper had begun to see in Willow's husband many of the virtues she had extolled that first night, and he was shocked to find himself trusting an Urgal ram, but so it was.

When they walked to the outskirts of the village where Sunset and Saphira were still waiting, and growing hungrier by the day, all of the villagers followed them. The children swarmed around Willow and Varhog, hanging on his legs and begging for him to carry them. He tried to give as many of them turns as he could during the short walk, and when they arrived at their destination, Varhog knelt down and was immediately overrun by children. He kept himself upright without any trouble, saying tender goodbyes and giving gentle hugs.

The mothers and fathers looked on in amazed silence. Most of the mothers were won over by then, and many of the fathers had softer hearts, though their learned instincts still warned them that the powerful beast-like man should be viewed as a threat to their wives and children. But Varhog never gave their instincts reason to worry, and he and Willow soon climbed onto Sunset's back amidst many cries of, "Farewell, Uncle Varhog," and "Goodbye, Aunt Willow!" They waved to the children until their dragons were ready to depart.

Sunset took off as gently as she could, but Willow sighed in discomfort and leaned back against Varhog. He had his hands where she needed them, which was under her belly to support it. She thought to Sunset, _Though I've always loved flying with you, I can honestly say that I'm_ so _glad I won't have to again after today until these babies are out of me. I'm sorry, Sunset. It's just so uncomfortable._

 _I know, sunshine,_ Sunset sympathetically replied, intimately aware of Willow's every discomfort and ache. _You need not apologize to me. I will get you home as swiftly and gently as I can._

 _Thank you, Sunset_ , Willow thought, trying to focus on Varhog's voice as he sang to her. But the hours before they stopped for a break and the hours after, before they finally arrived home, were some of the longest in her life.

-:-:-

They arrived in Varhog's village just as they had left Yazuac—to the sound of many loud cheers from a large gathering of people. Aside from Black Thunder and Fírnen, who were just as excited to see the two female dragons and their Riders as any of the others, their welcoming party entirely consisted of Urgals, among them some of the most beloved faces Willow had ever known. As Sunset and Saphira descended, Willow commented to Varhog, "It's heartening that we left one group, all humans, and arrived to another group, all Urgralgra, with equal degrees of goodwill and acceptance. Perhaps we are making a difference for good in the world after all."

"We certainly are, Eartheyes. Thanks to you. It's always thanks to you."

"You had plenty to do with how much those children loved you," Willow returned, but Varhog simply gave her a squeeze, for they were then on the ground and she was anxious to be off the dragon. He helped her dismount by practically doing it for her, since it was so awkward for her to get her leg up over the saddle.

The first person to greet them—though there seemed to be a line—was Garzhvog. As the biggest, no one stood a chance against him. He seemed to sense that he must be careful with Willow because of how much larger she was, but he still stooped down and gave her a loving embrace. "I would bash foreheads with you for how glad I am to see you, Willow, but I know Varhog wouldn't appreciate that. How are you, my daughter? Look how the babies have grown!"

"Father," Willow happily said, almost crying in her relief to be home, to be surrounded by Urgals—her true family—and to hear and understand Urgralish all around her. "I am well. So tired of flying, but now that I don't have to anymore until after these babies are born, I can already forget about the discomforts. How have you and mother been?"

"Wonderful," Garzhvog replied. "So glad to have one another. Thanks to you," he echoed Varhog's words of only a few moments earlier. "Life is so much happier with a mate. We've taken the opportunity of not having any grandcubs immediately due or just born to travel to the nearby Urgal tribes and establish greater peace and acceptance of the revised ways. We don't want the peace you Riders have worked to establish to be lost to the familiarity of old and bad habits. But we can talk of that later. See how many people have missed you and want to see you? And I'm hogging you all to myself. Something I'm glad I can do as biggest around here, though not strongest. I haven't forgotten, son." Garzhvog finished by addressing Varhog, also giving him an embrace rather than bashing foreheads with him, as he had implied he might.

Willow next hugged Myrintuk, then Myrin, Tarhvek, and all their children. Next were Raygog and Yvenna, whose pregnancy was barely showing, though she was halfway through it. The children were swarming all around their legs, suing for more attention, so Varhog and Willow knelt down again, and it felt so reminiscent of what had just happened in Yazuac, though here they saw yellow eyes and gray skin all around, instead of the fair skin and mostly brown eyes of the human children.

Myrek and Rinna excitedly patted her belly, chattering on and on about how big it was and how soon the babies would come. "And we'll each always have one to hold!" Myrek gushed.

"So we'll never have to fight," Rinna finished, and Willow laughed, looking up at Myrin, who was grinning, and guessing this had been a frequent conversation.

"I missed you girls so much!" Willow said, hugging them around her belly. "Oh, feel that! The babies are excited to meet you too. Feel them moving around in there? My, how strong they are!" Willow felt a little lightheaded. "Varhog, can we go?" she said, turning to him. "I'm feeling so strange."

Varhog nodded and carefully stood so he wouldn't hurt any of the children. "Aunt Willow needs to rest," he gently said. "We'll see you every day, I'm sure. Come visit us at our hut. Mother, did you have something prepared? I'm sorry if you went to a lot of trouble. Can we excuse ourselves? Willow needs to get some proper rest."

"Of course, son," Myrintuk said. "We can still eat the food, and we'll bring you plenty so you don't have to worry about that. We'll celebrate your arrival home when Willow feels better, even if that's not until after the babies are born. She's only five weeks from full term, right?" Varhog nodded. "So the babies might realistically be born any time within the next several weeks. Firesword's and Arya's hut is also ready for a long stay. Off you go then! Don't worry about us!"

Varhog helped Willow to her feet and gently picked her up. Eragon and Arya stayed behind with Varhog's family to enjoy the welcoming feast they had prepared. Varhog walked with Willow to their hut, and Willow had never been more grateful for anything than when he pushed through their door and laid her down on their bed, laying down beside her so she could get comfortable next to him.

"Is there anything I can get for you, Eartheyes? Are you hungry? Thirsty? Do you need to use the washroom?"

"Right now I just want to lay here, Yelloweyes," Willow answered. "It feels like we're finally back home, doesn't it?"

"Aye, it does," he replied. "This feels like home to me too. It's where we made our babies, and now they will soon be born. Are you feeling better than before?"

"Yes, sweetheart. Thank you. I felt lightheaded, maybe just from kneeling down after sitting so long in the saddle, then standing so briefly. I was so glad to see everyone but maybe a little overwhelmed." Tears came to her eyes, and Willow pushed her face into his chest in an effort to stem the flow. "I'm so glad to be back home," she repeated, "so glad we get to have the babies here and that I made it through all that flying. I wouldn't have wanted to continue a single day longer."

"Nor I, with how uncomfortable you were. It was good we could fly on Sunset those last weeks. She understood you better and was able to be gentler."

Willow nodded into his chest, breathing in his beloved smell. "How long has it been since we last made love?" she wondered, slightly surprised she didn't know.

"I haven't been keeping track, Willow. It doesn't matter to me. You've been so achy and exhausted. There's no way that could be good for you right now."

"It hasn't been since Ellesméra, has it? Surely not that long? No, we did in Therinsford, but even that was a week ago. Do you want to?"

"No, Willow," Varhog said firmly. "I want you to rest and completely recover. We'll still be in this bed tomorrow morning or evening or after the babies are born."

"Fine. Will you still kiss me, at least?" Willow pretended she was more resentful than she actually was. In all honesty, she was as grateful as ever at his kind and selfless concern for her. "With your shirt off?" she hopefully added.

"Only if you'll take yours off," Varhog stipulated.

"But I'm getting so huge and the stretch marks are worse. I feel awkward and unsightly, Varhog."

"But you're as beautiful as ever in my eyes. You look at me for your enjoyment, and I'll look at you for mine." She nodded in surrender and began removing her shirt, but he took over for her, allowing her to do the same with him.

When their torsos were bare, Willow was glad Varhog asked her to take off her shirt. She loved feeling his rough hide next to her bare skin and snuggled next to the warm surface as he began stroking her growing curves. She lay there contentedly, allowing herself to enjoy his touch, which only relaxed her in her weariness. Before they could even start kissing, Willow fell asleep. So Varhog kissed the top of her head and held her, staying awake her whole nap, watching their babies move inside of her, and loving her more every minute, as always seemed to be the case.

* * *

 **A/N:** The following chapter contains brief mention of a Mature love scene.


	6. Nesting

6\. Nesting

Time passed in a strange and contradictory way. On one hand, it seemed to crawl by—every minute an hour, every hour a day, and every day a week. On the other hand, it flew by as Willow and Varhog attempted to prepare everything they thought they would need for the birth of their babies and the time after.

Arya helped Willow make baby clothes, but with summer fast approaching, Willow didn't know how often she would have the babies fully dressed. In the time they spent together, Arya reminded Willow of her lessons over the winter about labor and childbirth. She taught Willow various exercises she could practice every day that would allow her to relax and breathe properly, as well as prepare her muscles for the upcoming demands on her body.

Willow spent a lot of time outdoors, especially as her thirty-seventh week of pregnancy came and went. She knew if she could stay upright and moving, she would encourage her labor to begin just as soon as it wanted, and she was ready for it to happen any day. While outside, she had a chance to get reacquainted with her wolves, who seemed to know Willow had returned not long after it happened. She tried to reach their minds with mental words, as the spider suggested, and was delighted they could understand. Using the ancient language, she taught them to communicate with her. She was thrilled to meet Boldclaw's cubs, who had been born earlier in the spring and were swiftly growing.

-:-:-

One morning, after Willow was past thirty-nine weeks of pregnancy and so huge and awkward she could barely stand it, Varhog asked during breakfast, "Willow, can I go hunt with Black Thunder today?"

"Of course, sweetheart."

"I'm sorry I waited so long," Varhog admitted regretfully. "With your womb the way it has been, I kept thinking your labor would begin any day. But it hasn't, and I need some meat so desperately. I'll only be gone an hour. Will you be well without me?"

"I'm sure I will," Willow assured him. Her womb had been contracting fairly regularly for over a week, but the pattern never became predictable. Arya informed them that her body was practicing for the big day and she should carry on with her normal activities. "I think I might go to that strawberry patch we found. Some of those berries looked perfect. It would also be good to walk some. Maybe the babies will finally decide to be born."

Willow reached around her belly and could barely touch her hands together at the farthest point. The twins hadn't been as active, which Willow had learned was due to the fact that they simply couldn't move as much in their tight quarters. Careful observations with their minds reassured Willow and Varhog that the babies were as healthy and strong as ever.

"Well, I'll be off then so I can return sooner. Call me through Black Thunder if you need me. Sunset will be going with us, but we should be close enough for you to reach her. We'll only go far enough to find some animals." Varhog leaned over to kiss her then her belly. "Be good for mother, you two," he said with a grin. "I love you, Willow," he added, standing and striding out the door.

Willow felt restless watching Varhog leave with such decisiveness, so she got up and left just as quickly. Her nesting instinct had been strong, but there was nothing left to do except wait. The hut was clean, all needed supplies gathered, and plenty of easy-to-eat food prepared. Willow didn't want to sit around doing nothing.

The early summer morning was already warm, and Willow was glad she was dressed for a hot day—in soft leggings that ended just below her knees and a fitted, cap-sleeve shirt that hugged all the way around her belly. Comfortable leather sandals protected her feet, and Willow could easily slip them on or off without bending over, since it was impossible for her to reach her feet around her belly. As she walked, Willow wrapped her hair into a twist that would keep it off her neck.

The strawberry patch she had in mind as her destination was about ten minutes away, in the direction opposite Eragon and Arya's hut. Willow sang as she walked, observing life in the forest and swinging the basket she had grabbed before leaving so she could bring plenty of the ripe fruit home.

When she reached the patch, Willow squatted down near one edge of it, practicing the position she would most likely assume at some point during her labor. Her legs were strong, and squatting was actually comfortable, for it eased the constant pressure in her back, hips, and pelvis. She ate the first berry she plucked, and while chewing, she picked several more and put them in her basket. She followed this pattern of eating and picking, meandering farther into the patch without really paying attention to where she was going. Since her mouth was so occupied with eating, she continued her song by humming.

After a time, Willow stood and looked around to get her bearings, noticing she had wandered far into the patch, which stretched out under the trees and thickened in the sunniest, most open areas. Two small bear cubs next caught her eye, playing nearby in one of the sunny, open patches. Willow watched them affectionately, remembering how she always thought of two bear cubs whenever she referred to her babies that way.

The cubs didn't notice her at first, and Willow continued to observe them, smiling at their snuffling sounds and playful wrestling. One tumbled over the other, letting out a triumphant growl as the other squawked indignantly. When he righted himself, the victorious cub faced Willow for the first time, and both cubs paused, suddenly wary, their game forgotten.

Willow decided she had best leave. Varhog would soon be back, and though she felt nothing in her environment that worried her, Willow knew the mother bear wouldn't be far. She didn't want to risk alarming the cubs.

A warm breeze blew through the patch, rustling the leaves in the trees around her as Willow laboriously bent to retrieve her basket. But the rustling did not cease as the breeze moved on, and a menancing presence darkened Willow's surroundings.

Willow sensed the mother bear enter the clearing wherein her cubs waited. She turned as quickly as she could and felt a twinge of fear as the huge creature lumbered toward her on all fours, already as tall as Willow though at her shorter height. Willow backed away, but an ominous growl from the bear alerted her that she was heading in the direction of the cubs.

Willow softly said in the ancient language, "Sister Bear, I'm sorry I stumbled upon your cubs in their play. I was enjoying this ripe fruit. I'll soon be the mother of two cubs as well. See my large belly? I mean your cubs no harm. Please let me go in peace." She changed directions, moving slowly away from the cubs, but their mother was steadily gaining on her because Willow was so awkward and heavy under the weight of her womb.

Willow didn't know if she was in danger, but she called to Sunset just in case, _I might need some help, Sunset. I happened upon two bear cubs playing, and their mother just arrived._

Willow kept her attention on the bear and used her mind to assess the situation, knowing she was unfit to run away or dodge an attack. The bear was still advancing, her behavior defensive, not aggressive.

But Willow noticed the imperceptible shift in the bear's mood. A mistrustful glint in her eye seemed to communicate her awareness that Willow was more than an ordinary human woman. Perhaps the bear could feel Willow using her mind, or maybe some rumor of the magic of the ancient language had reached forest animals other than the wolves. Whatever the case, the bear reared up on her hind legs and roared in warning. Willow's gentle message had not reassured her, and she demonstrated the full-blown fury of a protective mother bear.

In a general mental plea, including any who might be within range, Willow cried out, _I definitely need help!_ She backed up more quickly, but her sandal caught on a strawberry vine and she stumbled. Willow remained upright only by catching a tree branch within reach of her hand.

The mother bear advanced threateningly, and Willow ducked as the bear swung out a massive paw to swipe her off her feet. The bear missed, but Willow's evasion nonetheless landed her on the ground, the weight of her womb making her unsteady. She scrambled backwards as the bear dropped again to all fours and rushed at her.

"Stop!" Willow cried in the ancient language, attempting to keep the bear away from her. But she couldn't infuse the words with magical power, for right at that moment, a powerful contraction tightened her womb and completely distracted her, rendering her spell useless.

Willow was immobilized by the contraction, which was so much stronger than anything she had experienced before. The bear was almost on her. "No," she whispered. "Please don't hurt me." Then she screamed, "No! Help me, please!" She forced herself to move back a few feet, not willing to give up when she was so close to meeting her babies!

Then Varhog's shouted, "Willow! Where are you?" He was too far.

She still yelled so he would be able to find her, "Varhog! Over here!" The bear raised a great paw, preparing to maul her head, and Willow closed her eyes, hoping it would somehow lessen the pain.

Varhog was too far, but Steel wasn't. He had heard Willow's mental plea and raced to her rescue. Leaping through the air, he collided with the huge bear and growled in warning as she righted herself to face him.

Willow's eyes flew open at the unexpected sound. She was overjoyed to see Steel in front of her, crouching low with his ears flat against his head, teeth bared, a terrifying snarl rumbling in his chest. The bear roared again and swiped at Steel, but _he_ was nimble enough to dodge away. He sprang right back in front of Willow.

Willow's contraction ended, and she attempted to move herself, but another surge started right on top of the first. Willow gasped at the intensity, unconsciously tensing her face, completely unable to relax given her circumstances.

Varhog sprinted into sight, his sword drawn, a terrible fury in his eyes. "No! Varhog, no!" Willow screamed. "Don't kill her! Don't!" Varhog clearly meant to behead the bear for threatening Willow. "She's a mother. Two cubs. She's only trying to protect them."

Willow's lowered her voice then because Varhog was right by her side. "Just help me, Yelloweyes. Take me away from here. Steel can hold her off long enough to get me away."

Another contraction began. "Ah! The surges," Willow panted. "They've started. They must have. These are so strong. Take me home, Varhog. I'm sorry I got into trouble while you were gone. I didn't mean to." He scooped her up. "Remember the berries. They're so delici—" But the strength of the contraction prevented her from finishing. Varhog grabbed the basket and turned to head toward their hut.

Willow said to Steel, _Thank you my friend. You saved my life. I love you. Tell Boldclaw that my cubs will be born . . . today. . . ._

Willow sensed Steel's mental acknowledgement. Through his mind, she saw the mother bear backing toward her cubs, communicating with earnest grunts that they must leave. The double threat of a fierce wolf and armed Urgal was enough to get the bear to leave.

Willow tried to relax as the next surge swept over her womb, but all she succeeded in doing was moaning the entire duration of it. Varhog's face contorted in fear, and Willow realized she needed to do better or Varhog would die of anxiety. She forced herself to breathe slowly and deeply, in and out. Each time she exhaled, she released some of the tension gripping her entire body, and each time she inhaled, she envisioned her womb opening as she filled her lungs. Her efforts helped immensely and by the time they reached their hut, her face was clear and calm and she was breathing evenly rather than panting anxiously.

Willow closed her eyes and began the breathing again as the next surge started. Were they really coming one on top of the other, or was she only imagining it? Arya had told her this only happened in the final stages of opening, right before the time for pushing started. Could all of her womb's practice efforts have moved her to this advanced stage without her even being aware?

"Varhog, notify Arya that my labor has begun," Willow instructed.

Varhog laid her on the bed and went over to the mirror hanging on the wall so he could scry Arya. "Firesword is going to walk with Brom to fetch mother and Myrin," he informed her when he returned to her side. "Arya is coming directly. Are you well, Willow? I'm so sorry. I shudder to think what would have happened if Steel hadn't come. You might be dead. You _would_ be dead. And if that bear had mauled your head open, I'm sure there's nothing we could have done with magic." Varhog _did_ shudder, huge tears welling up in his eyes.

"But I'm fine, Yelloweyes," Willow soothed. "Don't dwell on that. Our babies are coming! Let's think about that instead. They're finally ready to come, and I'm so ready to meet them!"

"I can't lose you, Willow," Varhog whispered. "It would kill me."

"Well, you won't. Here comes another one." Willow stopped talking to focus on relaxing and breathing as another powerful surge swept over her womb. Though she was relaxed, it was so strong that she still moaned a little. "Those are indescribably powerful," she breathed as it ended. "I think I can actually feel my womb opening a little each time."

Arya appeared at the door. "I knocked, but you didn't seem to hear. Is everything all right? Varhog looked panic-stricken when he scryed us."

Willow explained as much as she could before her next contraction started, but it was only a few seconds. "Mmmmmmmmm," she moaned with the surge. "They're so strong, Arya. And so close together. All at once. It was so sudden. Is that normal?"

"There is a wide range of normal, Willow," Arya said. "You prepared your womb well, and it is now intent on getting those babies out."

Willow relaxed through several more contractions, and Arya timed each one. "They're right on top of each other and so long. Your womb must be in the advanced stages of opening. How are you doing?"

"I'm already so tired. The stress of meeting the bear and almost getting my head ripped off took a lot out of me," Willow laughed weakly, but it cut off in a choking sound as the next surge started.

Arya stroked her face. "Remember to relax your face as well as you can," she advised.

Eragon, Myrintuk, and Myrin arrived then. "You're here," Arya said. "Willow's surges are less than three minutes apart and almost two minutes long. Her womb is working insistently to open."

But almost as suddenly as they started, the contractions abruptly stopped. Everyone waited in watchful anticipation as ten agonizing minutes crawled by and Willow's womb remained still. "What happened?" Willow wondered. "Is that not odd that they would just stop like that?"

"It does seem strange," Arya agreed. "Do you want me to check whether your cervix was truly opening? Maybe this was a false alarm."

"If those weren't true labor surges, I don't know how I'm going to survive the real thing," Willow worried. "Yes, please check me. Maybe it will give us some insight."

Arya asked Varhog to help Willow remove her leggings as she washed her hands. Eragon had gone out to the front room to play with Brom so Arya wouldn't be distracted. But they could still hear Eragon's low, snuffling grunts and Brom's delighted giggles carrying down the hall, and Arya smiled lovingly at the beautiful sounds.

When Willow was situated comfortably against Varhog's chest, Arya gently reached into her body and felt her cervix. "The opening to your womb is almost completely open, Willow. I can barely feel it anymore. Just a small lip on one side. I can also feel that the amniotic sac—the sac the babies have been growing in—is still intact. Do you feel the need to relieve yourself? A full bladder can sometimes keep the baby off your cervix, thereby slowing the labor."

Willow said, "Actually, I do. If I can, should I try to move my bowels?"

"That does help clear the birth path, since it runs right behind the same area," Arya said. "Anything along those lines would be helpful. I still don't know why the contractions stopped. If we can get them started back up, we should. Are you two opposed to some nipple stimulation? Or even making love? That just might do it."

"It's never a problem with me to do that," Willow said with a laugh, and Myrin smiled from where she was sitting. "That's probably why my womb is so strong. What do you think, Varhog?"

"I'll do it if it will help you, but not with everyone around," Varhog said, clearly still worried about Willow though she was so at ease.

"We'll leave, of course," Arya reassured. "Try relieving yourself first then do the other. We'll be outside, and I'll feed Brom while we wait so he'll be happy for another good stretch. Take your time. Enjoy it. You might not get to for a while after today."

"Not if your example was anything to judge by," Willow teased, laughing more loudly.

"True," Arya said with a grin. "Though your pregnancy went longer and two babies will be passing out of you. They're likely to be much bigger than Brom was."

"Point taken. We'll enjoy ourselves. Varhog will call for you when we're done. He's good at that." Willow giggled, and Varhog finally smiled a little.

"Oh, and just in case you might worry, it should be perfectly safe for Varhog to release into you. Semen is an amazing natural labor inducer and helps soften the cervix. With the bag of waters still intact, the babies will be fine. If your interaction causes the waters to break, all of the amniotic fluid will simply wash his out in front of it. If that happens, be prepared for a large gush and possibly the strong urge to push. See you soon." Arya turned to leave, Myrin and Myrintuk following.

"I'll go relieve myself," Willow said. "You stay here and get the bed ready for a possible large gush of fluid." She grinned and got up, walking—or waddling—down the hallway. Willow had done her best not to waddle during her pregnancy, but she could feel the difference with her womb almost all the way opened and couldn't help it.

Willow took care of her needs in the washroom, once again grateful Varhog and Eragon had modernized the plumbing in their hut while building Eragon's.

"Next pushing will bring my babies," she murmured to herself as she attempted the nearly impossible task of wiping herself around her huge belly. She ended up washing herself in the bathtub to ensure that she would be completely clean, both for her intended time with Varhog and for the birth of her babies after.

She returned to their bedroom to find Varhog pacing anxiously.

"Any luck?" he asked, walking to her side.

"Yep, with both. I'm all cleaned up and ready to get started. How about you?"

"As ready as I'll ever be," Varhog said. "I'm nervous and excited. We might soon meet our babies. How can anyone possibly feel ready for this?"

"I know how I can," Willow said. "If it means I'll be able to reach my toes and breathe in to fill my lungs, then I'm ready to meet these babies. I've loved the honor of being pregnant, but I'm so ready to be able to sit, stand, or lie down comfortably. I can't do anything comfortably anymore."

"I know," Varhog gently said. "I mean, I don't, but I know you've told me that. I'll help you if I can. Shall I start with your breasts?"

"Yes, please," Willow said, allowing him to guide her to the bed and pull off her shirt and undergarment.

After a moment, Varhog informed, "There's already milk."

"Really?" Willow cried, pressing one nipple between her thumb and forefinger to confirm his statement. "The first milk. The babies will soon get to try it. Keep going, Varhog. It feels so good."

So he did, and soon enough a _very_ powerful surge seized her womb. "Wow," she breathed as it faded. "That was intense. One more like that, and I'll probably be good to go. Let's join now."

"How?" Varhog wondered.

"The only way we can, I suppose. I'll turn around and kneel on you. If I lean far enough forward, maybe you _will_ break the sac of waters and these babies will finally emerge. Let's cover a pillow with a towel to support my womb. Instead of holding my belly, keep stimulating my nipples with your hands. That will be more powerful. I really want my labor to keep going. Can you still reach if I lean forward?"

"I'm sure I can. My arms are long enough. Let's put them to good use."

"Wait, let me kiss you first, since I can't when I'm turned around," Willow said. Varhog didn't object, and her obvious enjoyment was interrupted by another powerful contraction, which she accompanied with a long, drawn-out moan as she tried to relax. "We'd better join before I can't."

"We don't have to, Willow," Varhog insisted.

"Are you joking? I want to so much. I'm so aroused. And besides, even though those are so strong, I still don't feel the urge to push. I don't think my womb is all the way open. Help me turn around."

Once he had, they assumed the position that would allow them to move forward in their interaction. Willow rested her elbows against his legs, bringing her hands together so she could lean her face into them and make their connection as deep as possible.

Varhog grunted, and Willow quickly asked, "Am I hurting you?"

"No, Eartheyes," Varhog panted. "It feels amazing. Do whatever you want. I'm following Arya's advice." He rumbled loudly, and Willow grinned.

Before long, the most powerful contraction she had yet experienced overwhelmed her uterus, right at the moment of their shared release. Willow knew her womb finished opening and that her sac of waters ruptured because warm fluid flowed out all over the bed in front of her, and she suddenly felt the undeniable urge to push, which she couldn't ignore. Willow obeyed, hunching her shoulders and grunting from the sheer power of the effort.

"Surely you felt that," she gasped when she could.

"Aye, and I need to get out of the way," Varhog anxiously replied. "I could feel the first baby trying to move down." He helped her move aside so he could sit up, and Willow was horrified to see a huge amount of blood gush out with the rest of the fluids.

"Varhog, there's so much blood!" Willow cried as another contraction began and demanded she once again push. She had no choice but to comply, but she also managed to choke, "Get Arya."

As she pushed, another huge wave of blood left her, and Varhog was paralyzed by the sight, terror etched in his face. "Go!" Willow urged through clenched teeth.

Varhog yanked on his pants and left the room to dash down the hall. Willow heard him bellow, "Arya, Willow's bleeding!" and then he was back by her side.


	7. Life and Death in the Power of the Womb

7\. Life and Death in the Power of the Womb

Arya was there a second later. She didn't allow the alarming sight of all the blood to interfere with her presence of mind, though she knew it was far from normal. "I need to check you, Willow. This bleeding is very dangerous." When Willow wasn't pushing, the blood didn't pour forth as abundantly, but it still flowed steadily.

With Varhog's help, Willow moved to the edge of the bed. He sat behind her and even with his calves hanging over the side, Willow still had enough room to squat in front of him. This gave Arya easy access by kneeling on the floor in front of the bed between Varhog's legs.

Arya checked her once more, withdrawing her bloody hand to inform them, "It feels like that final lip of your cervix was overlapped by an outer edge of the placenta. Your uterus must have stopped contracting naturally, sensing the grave danger you would be in if that area moved and your placenta was exposed. When you forced the cervix, the placenta was left uncovered. Now it is bleeding, as one would expect. We're fortunate only such a small area of the placenta grew where it did. A more complete growth of the placenta over the cervix can lead to a woman slowly bleeding to death as her womb opens to reveal her placenta, which continues to perform its function of transferring blood and also blocks her baby's exit.

"We need to get these babies out immediately, Willow, so your placenta can detach and you can stop bleeding. Next time you push, I'll reach up and assist you by holding that edge of the placenta out of the way. I don't think your first baby's head is presenting. It feels too soft, so it might be a bottom. It can still be born this way, we just need to work carefully. The already tight squeeze will be even tighter, and you'll need to focus on allowing your body to open as much as it can. This is the first time your body has stretched in front of a baby, and you can't fight it at all, though your instinct will be to tense up. You must not. Your body is capable of bearing these babies. Trust it. I'll help you. Varhog, steady her. She'll need to bear down powerfully, and she must not be expected to support her own weight over her legs right now."

Arya had been speaking swiftly, knowing her time before Willow's next contraction was limited. As the surge suddenly began, she reached her hand up to help Willow, her arm only partially blocking the river of blood that issued forth. "Keep your face relaxed," she reminded clinically, glancing up at Willow. Then she sang softly to encourage Willow's relaxation and the opening of her body to its fullest ability.

Willow bore down with all of her considerable strength on top of the powerful effort of her womb. As soon as the baby moved past the edge of the placenta, Arya hooked her thumb and middle finger around its hips, feeling she had been right to guess that it was in a frank breech or bottom-first position, and gently pulled as Willow pushed. This combined effort from the two women caused the baby to be born much more quickly than it normally would have.

Arya knew Willow was trying to relax as she had been directed, but her body had no time to numb itself under the gradual and steady pressure created by the baby as it moved through the birth path. Willow's low moan of concentrated effort intensified as the baby rapidly descended, and she screamed loudly as it emerged from her body into Arya's hands, nearly losing consciousness as she slumped into Varhog.

"She's losing too much blood," Arya worried as she unfolded the baby—who was covered in blood—and saw it was a son.

Varhog must have noticed at the same time, for he whispered to Willow, who still couldn't see around the bulk of her womb, "You were right, Eartheyes. We have sons. The first is large, just as you predicted. Be strong, Willow. You're almost done."

Arya called Myrin over. "Hold him while I help Willow with the other. He must be born just as quickly." The baby let out a gusty squall, and another great gush of blood flowed out of Willow. "The placenta is beginning to detach. The other baby will be in danger. Willow, we need to do that again, even if you don't feel the urge."

"I can't," Willow muttered listlessly. "It hurt so much. I feel so tired and weak. Drained." Her head lolled against Varhog's chest, her eyes were closed, and she was frighteningly pale.

Varhog was still looking at his new son in awe, but Arya's firm voice got his attention. "Varhog, Willow is too weak. I need you to help me now." She reached inside of Willow. "Your second baby is also not head first. I'll hold his feet and guide him out, but you need to gently, very gently, push from above. It's his head, so be gentle but firm. He needs to be born _now_. His heart rate is dropping since the placenta is separating."

Varhog nodded his understanding, lowering Willow down until she was more reclined against him. He placed his hands carefully on her womb, awaiting Arya's signal.

"Now," Arya said, grateful Willow's womb once again began tightening at the same time. Blood flowed around her arm. "Carefully. His arms need to extend straight up by his head, and we don't want to cause his chin to tilt back in our haste."

The baby's feet slowly emerged, followed inevitably by the rest of his body. He too was covered in blood, but his first lusty cry was just as powerful as his brother's.

Varhog laughed in amazement, tears filling his eyes, which were wholly captivated by the sight of his two healthy sons.

Myrintuk left to fetch more warm water to assist Arya and Myrin in their efforts of cleaning the twins, which they needed to do to ensure that they were well after the risky nature of their births. Since their attention was fully trained on the babies, none of the four at first realized Willow's condition.

-:-:-

All the while—though it was only a matter of minutes—Willow was steadily bleeding. The placenta failed to fully detach and emerge from her body, and she felt darkness swallowing her but was unable to make any indication that her life was flowing out of her. It was peaceful, like she was falling into a deep sleep that she needn't ever worry about waking from.

 _Sunset,_ she thought in a pleading tone, too weak to even reach Varhog's mind and barely aware of his next words, as if he was speaking them from a great distance.

"Look how big and strong they are, Willow," he said. "You were amazing! We have two sons!" Willow could not respond.

-:-:-

Sunset's anxious voice suddenly filled Varhog's mind. _Varhog! Check on Willow! She is dying!_

Cold dread gripped his heart as he immediately glanced down at Willow. "Arya!" he cried. "Look at Willow! She's almost lifeless!"

Arya looked up, the same terror filling her features. Willow's face was deathly pale, her eyes sunken in.

Myrin said, "We need to place the babies on her. They'll remind her why she needs to keep fighting and help the tree of life to be born. It must happen immediately, or she will surely bleed to death. She nearly has. How careless of us!"

Myrintuk stepped behind Arya and, with experienced calm, closed her hands gently but firmly around Willow's loose womb to encourage the bleeding to slow as the other women laid the babies on her.

Myrin placed the first baby on Willow's flaccid, stretched-out abdomen above Myrintuk's hands, and Arya did the same. The twins were indeed strong and healthy, and they began wriggling around on their mother's body, knowing her smell and sensing their food nearby. Their strong legs began kneading her womb and more blood exited Willow, along with many great clots.

"Once the placenta has detached, I can heal Willow's womb with magic," Arya said, and Varhog heard her struggling to remain calm. "But I don't know how to replace this lost blood. I can't magically manufacture blood." There was blood, so much blood, all over the bed and Arya and the floor, where it had rained down from above.

Myrintuk moved her hands away from the babies' instinctive efforts, for they would help their mother in a way she could not. The twins were both still attached by their umbilical cords to the placenta, and as they worked their way up Willow's body, the cords gently pulled on the placenta, finally resulting in its birth.

Arya immediately began her healing magic while Myrintuk resumed her effort of clamping down on Willow's womb until the bleeding stopped. But Willow was even closer to the brink of death.

Once he noticed how death-like it was, Varhog had never taken his eyes from Willow's face. "Please, Willow," he begged, channeling energy into the faint spark that indicated she was alive. But as Arya had said, it couldn't replace the lost blood. "Willow, please keep fighting. Don't give up now. Our sons are here. They need you." He choked as hot tears spilled out of his eyes. " _I_ need you, Willow. Please don't leave me. I can't raise these babies on my own. Please, Eartheyes . . . please."

Varhog had his arms under hers so the babies could stay in place at her breasts, and he leaned down to press his lips to her forehead. It felt cold. "She's slipping away," he despaired. "What can we do?"

Varhog looked at the women around him. Two sets of tear-filled yellow eyes and one set of shimmering green ones stared back at him. The green ones answered his despairing question with faithful fervency, and Varhog knew what he must do. It was what Willow would do, what she _had_ done after Brom's birth. Varhog had taught her in the first place, so he now prayed in a desperate whisper, "Rahna. Holy Mother. Please help Willow. Please save her. I can't lose her. I need her. _We_ need her. This world needs this amazing woman."

As soon as he finished speaking, Rahna was standing beside the bed, a brilliant light emanating from her being. Her perfected body was radiantly beautiful, golden hair and gilded horns gleaming in the blinding light. Her eyes were filled with love as she gently laid a hand on Varhog's arm.

"You are right, my son," Rahna said. "This world does need Willow. And she is not lost. You do not need my help to save her, Varhog. The means have already been prepared, by Willow's own body. The tree of life will replenish her now, as it is meant to do, but it is more crucial than ever for Willow that she receive it immediately."

Myrin's eyes in particular were filled with astonishment as Rahna turned toward the women, instructing, "Do not remove any of the excess blood from the organ. Willow's body will know how to recycle it to replace what was lost. Act swiftly if you wish to save her. Place small amounts in her mouth and help her swallow with sips of water."

The women didn't hesitate. Myrintuk shifted Willow in Varhog's arms until her head tilted back over his arm and her throat was extended. Her mouth fell open.

She was so unresponsive that Varhog's gut clenched. _Please, Willow,_ he thought into her mind. _Please fight for me, Willow._

"I'm the bloodiest," Arya murmured after sealing and severing the umbilical cords, "so I'll do this part." She pinched off a piece of the placenta and placed it far back in Willow's mouth. Myrin was ready with a glass of water, and she tilted a small amount in through Willow's lips. Myrintuk kept Willow's face pointing up so the water wouldn't spill out the side or her mouth, and Willow reflexively swallowed as the liquid hit the back of her throat. The piece of placenta went down with it. Seeing that their first attempt was successful, they continued on.

As they did, Rahna spoke to Varhog. "My son, I am so proud of you. You have endured much to be with Willow. You have both triumphed over great opposition to be together. Your tribulations have not just begun, Varhog, but neither are they now over. The most difficult trial of your love and faith is yet to come, but if you and Willow can bear yourselves up as valiantly as you have hitherto done, your reward will be eternal. This is all the help I can give you, my son. Acquit yourselves of your final test as commendably as you always have, and your suffering will be at an end." She smiled at him in transcendent love and approbation. "I love you, my son. Remember your faith and to call on the heavens. Fare thee well." And then she was gone.

Varhog kept his eyes on the place where Rahna's face had been, memorizing the words she had spoken so he could reflect on them when he wasn't so distraught over Willow. When he felt sure he had them and his eyes had adjusted to the absence of brilliant light, he returned his gaze to Willow's face, feeling a wave of powerful relief that it was now regaining some color. He looked down at his sons and was overwhelmed by the emotions of love and gratitude. They were still nursing, holding hands with those nearest one another. It was precious. They _did_ seem to be friends, just as Willow had hoped, and they seemed to love her so much.

Arya suggested, "Sing to her, Varhog. Or at least speak to her. She needs to remember her reasons for living, for fighting. She has always had to fight to be with you, and she will fight for those precious babies. Congratulations, brother. It appears that everything will be well."

"Thank you, Arya," Varhog said. "Thank you for helping us realize what we were dealing with and for getting us through before Willow bled to death. Thank you for reminding me to have faith and pray."

"You owe me nothing, Varhog, so don't even suggest it. I'm grateful I could be a part of it and for the knowledge I have that aided us."

"This is twice now that you have given Willow back to me. I won't feel in your debt at your insistence, but nor will I ever forget it. You truly are a Life-Bringer."

"So is she," Arya said. "So is every woman. We bring life to this world and sustain it, in partnership with our husbands. It's a beautiful structure and order, clearly designed intentionally. My destiny seems as inexplicably entwined with Willow's as it was with Eragon's. We have helped one another in our times of direst need, together learning the power of knowledge and preparation. And faith, when all else fails." She had continued her efforts of feeding Willow, and though they were going slowly, Willow seemed to be regaining some strength. She acted like she anticipated the next bite of placenta and swallow of water, as if her body somehow knew how much she needed them to replace the copious amounts of lost blood.

-:-:-

Eragon quietly entered the room with a sleeping Brom in his arms. His brow creased in worry at the scene before him. There was so much blood, and his wife was covered in it. Rather than panic, which was his knee-jerk reaction, he breathed deeply and went to Arya's side.

"Is there anything I can do to help, or am I most useful keeping Brom happy? I can fetch fresh water to wash with, clean towels, clean linens."

"All of the above would be useful, darling," Arya said gratefully, glancing at him. "As would filling the washbasin with warm water. I'm sorry my appearance is so alarming." She briefly explained the events of Willow's labor and the twins' birth. "She seems now to be recovering. We will continue on until she has consumed the whole placenta. The babies are perfectly healthy. You can use the wrap to keep Brom snug against your chest so you can attend to the other tasks."

Eragon nodded and stood, giving Varhog a compassionate, encouraging look. He couldn't imagine almost losing Arya. Brom's stillbirth had been horrible, but he felt certain that if Arya died, he would be plunged into a devastation so deep and insurmountable he might never recover.

Eragon turned to leave the room and fulfill his wife's instructions, grateful she always gave him an assignment with clear, concise directions. He appreciated that as a man, both feeling useful and knowing best how to be so.

-:-:-

The babies had fallen asleep after a most determined nursing session, not seeming as tired as most babies, given that Willow's labor was so short and their passage through the birth path so quick. They were also huge and strong, but they were lulled to sleep by the comfort of suckling at their mother's breasts, as any babies would be, so their sleep was deep and content. They did everything wholeheartedly, and Varhog was already learning these things as he observed them. They were still holding hands, as reassured by one another's presence as by Willow's.

Varhog sang to his family as he held them in his strong arms, and Arya was right in thinking it would help Willow. She responded to it reflexively, her eyelids fluttering as she turned her face toward Varhog's chest. He sang the elven song of undying, self-sacrificing love, and Arya seemed to recognize it, for tears came to her eyes. When he finished that one, Varhog sang Willow's favorite Urgralish lullaby, and his mother and sister were similarly affected as they joined him in expressing their love to the new babies.

The three birth assistants finally finished their monotonous task, and after several minutes, Willow took in a deep breath and muttered, "Varhog?"

He couldn't suppress his quiet, relieved laugh. "Willow," he breathed. "You made it."

"Hmm?" she murmured.

"We nearly lost you. You bled so much. But the babies are so healthy and strong and beautiful. William and Varhog. Sons, just like you thought."

"Babies?" she murmured again but with slightly more volume.

"You had the babies, Willow. They're here right on your chest. You'll see them if you look down."

"Help me," she pleaded, still so weak she couldn't turn her head and hold it up to look down at them.

"Mother?" Varhog asked, his arms both holding babies in place.

Myrintuk took Willow's head in her hands, carefully turning it so Willow could gaze down at her sons. Tears spilled out of Willow's eyes, landing above their small heads. "There they are," she whispered. "It's so much more comfortable having them there than inside. Remember how I couldn't even sit like this anymore, Yelloweyes?"

"Yes, Eartheyes," he gently said. "And it's no wonder. You were right about everything—they're sons, they're huge, and they're friends. See how they're holding hands?"

"Yes." She laughed weakly. "It's beautiful."

"They have been ever since they assumed that position. They nursed for quite a while, intent on helping your womb recover. They love you, Willow. And they're fierce and persistent just like you. They were born assertively, doggedly made their way to your breasts, nursed insistently, and now sleep deeply. They do everything, or at least so far they've done everything, with complete, wholehearted commitment. I love them so much. And I love you, precious Willow."

"Thank you, Varhog. Thank you for sharing that with me. After the emergence of the first, which was really painful, I can't remember anything. I must have faded fast. Maybe some memories will come back in time. Which one was born first?"

"This one on our left," Varhog said. "Which name should he have?"

"Varhog," Willow said firmly. "Firstborn named after his father. So you're William," she continued, raising a hand to stroke the baby at her right breast. Then she also caressed baby Varhog. "Hello, my sons," she lovingly greeted.

That was all it took for Varhog to start weeping again. He was so grateful Willow would be well, so touched to hear her as a mother. She was regaining strength by the minute, and she looked up at him as his tears splashed down to her bare chest, kissing his cheek.

"I was never able to grasp what it would be like to have two babies at once, Yelloweyes," Willow confessed. "It feels amazing." Varhog nodded silently, which was all the more agreement he could offer right then.

-:-:-

Ever since she had finished her task of feeding the placenta to Willow, Arya had been cleaning up. She started with herself as best she could, using the water Eragon brought. Brom's little face peeked up out of the sling holding him against Eragon's chest. Eragon was just as comfortable wearing it as Arya, for it easily adjusted to fit either of their bodies with a simple set of rings. Brom slept like an angel whenever he was near either of his parents, as long as his tummy was full by his mother's efforts and his bladder or bowels relieved by his father's efforts. He had never been set down to sleep in his few months of life, and Eragon and Arya loved holding him so much, neither saw any reason to begin. They didn't even know what it sounded like when Brom cried because he never had, except for right after his life had been restored. But he had smiled from the time he was about a month old, and he now laughed every day, mostly for Eragon, who knew just how to tickle him with his beard to elicit the most adorable giggles.

Once her hands and arms were mostly clean, Arya said to Willow, "Willow I want to quickly check your body for any tearing." Willow nodded her assent, and Arya did as she had suggested, muttering words of healing to mend the tissue in need of repair. "You did amazingly, sister. Your sons must each weigh at least ten pounds. I'm proud of how relaxed and calm you stayed throughout your labor. Those surges were incredibly long and powerful, and your body had to open tremendously for the babies—especially the first—to pass through. The only sound of pain we ever heard from you was as baby Varhog emerged. With the way he was folded in half, it must have been unbelievably intense for you. Well done."

"Thank you," Willow earnestly said. "Thank you so much, Arya. I knew I would need you here." She looked over at her mother and sister-in-law. "Thank you, mother. Thank you, Myrin. Thank you all for being here and for all you did to help." Varhog nodded his fervent agreement.

"Now," Arya said, "we can get this bed and you two cleaned up so you can rest in peace. Are either of you hungry? Do you need to relieve yourselves? Let us know how we can serve you, then we'll leave you to enjoy this precious time."

"I'm hungry and I need to relieve myself," Varhog admitted. "But what do you need, Willow?"

"I feel content to rest," she said. "I don't feel hungry. Did I eat the placenta?"

"Yes, Willow," Arya answered. "We fed it to you. When it looked like you were about to slip away, Varhog prayed and Rahna actually appeared. She told us we didn't need her assistance to save your life, that the means had already been prepared by your own body. She instructed us on how to best accomplish the task to help your body recover from the blood loss. It took time and you were completely unconscious, but you reflexively swallowed each bite, and it worked. Here you are." She smiled.

"Rahna?" Willow repeated in awe. "What an honor. It seems fitting she would come to our birth. Was she beautiful?"

"Glorious, Willow," Varhog replied. "But not nearly as beautiful as you, my wife."

Willow smiled up at him. "Always so gallant. Let's take care of your needs, sweetheart, so you can rest with me."

Varhog nodded but said, "Not gallant. Honest. You know I've never pretended to be romantic."

"Yes, right from the beginning and in your honesty, you have always been even more so." To Arya, she added, "I don't need to eat or relieve myself, but a bath might be nice, if only so I don't get dried blood on a clean bed."

Varhog stood with her and the babies, walked to the washroom, and set her in the washbasin that Eragon had filled with warm water. He relieved himself then left to eat so Arya could go in and help Willow and the babies wash up. Myrin and her mother cleaned the bedroom, Eragon helping with magic to get the deepest blood stains out of the mattress and off the floor.

Within less than half an hour, all was ready, and the new family was settled in the clean bed with light sheets pulled up around them. The windows were open to let in the warm summer air and so the dragons of the new parents could peer in and inspect the new little hatchlings.

Arya stood back with Eragon, Myrintuk, and Myrin to examine those on the bed. Willow's cheek pressed into Varhog's chest, and his head was bowed, his face resting against her hair. Her arms were around the babies, hands clasped beneath their little feet, while Varhog's arms encircled them all, his hands joined together atop Willow's empty womb. The twins were latched onto her breasts, having finished another efficient nursing session. Though they had been jostled around to get clean, they had again found one another's hands, their small arms forming a V-shape on Willow's abdomen.

The longer Arya looked at them, the more it seemed like their bodies were creating a series of heart shapes. She murmured to the others, "Do you see what I'm seeing? The twins' hands are joined down at an angle between them, which line flows up to their heads and around to Willow's arms. With Varhog's head down and to the side, his horn is providing half of the curve to a similar shape, only surrounding the smaller one. Willow's head forms the other curve, and Varhog's shoulders and arms complete the shape, coming together at his hands. Like two hearts, one inside the other."

"Yes," Myrin agreed in amazement. "They're unconsciously displaying their love in the shape their bodies are taking on."

"How beautiful," Myrintuk said. "I wish there was a way we could capture it so they might one day see and recall how loving they were on the day they became a family."

"There is," Eragon said quietly. "I'll be right back." Arya knew exactly what he was going to do. He returned as quickly as promised with a thin piece of blank slate, though Arya knew it was infused with colors. "You do it," Eragon insisted, handing it to her. "You were involved with the birth and have a better emotional understanding of what should go into it to be meaningful.

Arya first sang the slate into a heart shape. Then she regarded the family once more before performing the spell that would capture what was in her mind in the image of a fairth on the slate. They all watched as the colors seeped into sight, combining to form—in exquisite detail—precisely the picture that was before them. Arya included what she knew would be important to all four.

For Willow, Arya made sure to convey the strength of Varhog's muscular arms and chest, where it was visible, and the tender look on his face. Though proud and strong—handsome, she knew Willow thought—Varhog was also gentle and loving. Arya now saw his beauty, for the goodness of his soul could not help but show in his countenance.

For Varhog, she captured how peaceful Willow was with her face pressed to his chest in one of her favorite expressions of acceptance and her lips curved up in a faint smile of contentment. With her eyes closed, her dark lashes created a lovely contrast against her fair skin. Willow's long hair flowed out over his arm, wavy and soft. Her bare arms and chest above the babies' heads were smooth, strong, and feminine, qualities Arya knew Varhog loved.

For the babies, when they could appreciate this someday, Arya portrayed how they were completely encircled in their parents' arms, how beloved and peaceful they were, and that they were already friends, a relationship begun before birth.

In an elegant script, Arya inscribed the initials 'V' and 'W' over the picture in the two full curves of the heart, for baby Varhog was right under his father's face and baby William right below his mother's.

"We should give it to Varhog," Arya said. "Perhaps he'll want to present it to Willow for her birthday, their anniversary, or another special occasion."

"It's perfect," Myrin breathed. "Thank you, Arya. Thank you for helping them, for helping my brother not lose his mate."

"You're welcome," Arya humbly replied. "Let us leave them to rest."

They turned and filed out the door. As they reached the front room, Myrintuk said, "I will stay to help them for now. Thank you, you two, for the friends you are to my son and daughter. We love you. Our whole family." Eragon and Arya inclined their heads and left, followed by Myrin.


	8. Summer

8\. Summer

The very morning after the twins were born, Eragon learned from Murtagh that Nasuada had given birth to their daughter the same day, so healthy in her pregnancy that she had passed her full term mark by several days. The birth had been perfectly normal, and she and the baby—whom they named Selena, after Murtagh and Eragon's mother—were doing amazingly.

Since he was scrying anyway, Eragon decided to contact those on the Isle to share the news of the two births and three babies, as well as to find out when the Riders planned to return to Alagaёsia. The Riders on the Isle joyfully received the glad tidings and said they were ready to come at any time. They decided to leave directly and come as a group, stopping first to see Murtagh and Nasuada in Ilirea before visiting the four other Riders in Varhog's village. From there the group would divide so the dwarves could return to the Beors, while Grintuk went on with the dragon egg to Anghelm. Tomath would easily be able to visit his family in Daret and planned to split his time between there and Varhog's village as much as possible.

-:-:-

Willow slowly recovered in the weeks following the twins' birth, not leaving the bed on her own two feet for the first month. Varhog always carried her to use the washroom and right back to the bed, and their family was close at hand to bring food and attend to any other mundane tasks.

Early on, Myrek and Rinna presented Willow and Varhog with a very thoughtful gift. With the help of their mother, the girls made the twins simple leather bracelets. One had the name Varhog burned into it and the other William. Willow and Varhog could tell them apart, but everyone else struggled since the babies looked exactly identical, so the bracelets became priceless in helping them know which twin they were holding or helping.

Though Willow did no exercise that involved getting out of bed, she still regained her pre-pregnancy form in record time, for baby Varhog and William nursed religiously every hour for an efficient ten minutes, draining Willow's breasts in the process, only to be ready to return exactly fifty minutes later to do the same thing all over again. To keep up with the demands, her breasts were constantly making milk, and they quickly depleted any fat stores she had accumulated during the pregnancy.

Willow had to eat voraciously to keep up with the demands of the twins, who grew even taller and got quite chubby within a matter of weeks. Varhog always treated her to breakfast in bed and fetched her food at least twice a night, as the babies continued this nursing pattern around the clock.

Willow was able to engage in her favorite form of exercise blessedly soon after the birth, though it was so demanding on her body. After her womb stopped bleeding, it never did again, due in part to Arya's healing magic, as well as to the consumption of the placenta, the babies' constant nursing, and the fact that she didn't bear any weight on her feet for the first month. But Willow didn't lose any strength because she tended to take after Myrin by keeping her husband extremely busy in bed, so thrilled she could once again face and reach him without the bulk of the babies between them.

-:-:-

"It's not fair that everyone can't enjoy becoming new parents like this," Willow commented after one such spirited exchange. "We haven't a care in the world. No fields to tend, no business to look after, no money to worry about. We're surrounded by family and friends who wait on us hand and foot. I get to stay in bed all day with my husband, making love and feeding my babies, while everyone around us does the cleaning, cooking, laundry, and everything else. It's a dream come true."

"You earned it, Willow," Varhog said, stroking her waist.

"Why would _I_ earn it and not every other woman who goes through the difficulties of pregnancy and childbirth?" Willow demanded.

Varhog smiled. "I don't know, Eartheyes. Maybe everyone just needs to start living like the Urgralgra and then every new mother would be treated as you are."

"Good point," she agreed, noticing how he traced over the pattern of stretch marks on her abdomen. "They're so unattractive," she complained. "Maybe I could heal them with magic."

"I wish you wouldn't," Varhog earnestly replied, moving his eyes away from her body to look at her face. "When will you believe me that I _love_ the way you look, the reminder of what you went through to become a mother and make me a father? Aside from the obvious evidence of our sons, your body looks as strong and lithe and amazing as it did before the pregnancy. Not even an extra curve anywhere, except for here," he trailed his fingers over one of her breasts, "to remind me of the changes your body underwent. You're so beautiful, Willow. Just as you are. Please don't change to pursue some ambiguous image of perfection. You're the embodiment of perfection in my eyes. Aren't they the only ones that matter?"

"Yes, I suppose so. Very well, Yelloweyes. I'll believe you." She giggled as his continued stroking made her milk let down. The twins had finished nursing about thirty minutes earlier, which meant they would be ready to do so again in about twenty more, but there was always an abundance of milk available. It started as a slow drip before flowing more forcefully, whereupon it sprayed Varhog all over his chest from both breasts. "I never expected there were so many openings," Willow cried, laughing harder. "It squirts out in over seven places!"

Varhog chuckled appreciatively, aiming one of the sprays up toward his mouth and succeeding only in getting milk all over his face before it ended. He frowned in mock disappointment.

Willow laughed at his expression. "You just had plenty a moment ago, sweetheart. We had best save what's left for the boys' next meal. Are you liking the milk as much as you thought you would?"

"Mmm-hmm," Varhog replied, wiping his face with the back of his forearm. Willow took advantage of the slickness on his chest and began massaging him, which he savored with a contented rumbling. "It's nice, Eartheyes. But what I enjoy most is that you seem to appreciate my attentions as much as always."

"To say the least," Willow agreed. "I would imagine that some men, if not most, would find the thought unpleasant."

"Their loss," Varhog said with a shrug. A smile appeared on his face as the innocent action affected his musculature and her obvious enjoyment of his body.

"What's funny?" she asked, also smiling.

"I know what you're thinking. It's so clear from your eyes and face. And I also realized that you _are_ getting stronger from lugging around my two huge cubs all day, just as you predicted."

Willow laughed delightedly. "So all-knowing one, what _am_ I thinking?"

Varhog made his voice higher, pretending to imitate her as he adapted her tone of shameless gloating and self-indulgence. "'I _love_ your body, Yelloweyes. It's so perfect. I could grope it all day,'" he quoted. In _his_ voice he finished, "Was I close?"

Willow laughed again, leaning forward to wrap her arms around his neck. "You know me well. That was exactly right, sweetheart. You've never imitated me like that before. It was a good impression. I don't think I could do the same for your voice."

Their babies began to stir on the other side of the huge bed. Varhog reached over to pull them closer while Willow turned around and situated herself between his knees. They had the routine down perfectly. As he handed Willow the first baby and she latched him on, Varhog brought the second baby to her other breast, where he latched himself on and began nursing with his brother. Willow put her arms behind their heads and backs, and Varhog put his huge arms under hers to provide her with a steel support that she could completely relax against. Her arms never got tired this way, and he assured her that his didn't either.

Once the babies were nursing, Varhog continued the conversation to the sounds of their eager swallowing. "I think you should try," he playfully invited. "Imitating my voice. I want to see how you do."

Willow was perfectly happy to keep being silly, so she cleared her throat as if she took his challenge very seriously and, in the deepest possible voice she could manage, said, "'I _love_ your stretch marks, Eartheyes. They're so gorgeous. All women should—'" But she couldn't continue because Varhog was laughing too hard, which made her laugh because she was bouncing around on him. And it also hurt a little to force her voice that low. The babies looked up at them curiously. When her laughter had subsided to somewhat controllable fits of giggles, Willow asked in her normal voice, "How did I do?"

"Not bad," Varhog approved. "I love being with you, Willow. No one has ever been able to make me laugh so hard, and it feels so good. But I need to wipe these tears out of my eyes before they drive me insane."

All of their hands were busy. "Here," Willow suggested, "use my nose." She turned her face up to his, and they started laughing again as he attempted to take her up on her offer.

"Never mind," Varhog lamented. "It's useless. As long as you keep me laughing like this, they'll just keep coming."

Willow rubbed her nose against his shoulder, understanding the ticklish feel of the liquid. The she turned her face back toward his. "I love being with you too, Varhog. Everyone should marry their best friend." He nodded and kissed her. "Unless it's a dragon," she amended.

A sudden knock on their bedroom door made them both look up. Myrin entered right after she knocked, and neither Varhog nor Willow cared that she walked in on them as they were. Varhog was mostly blocked by Willow, and Myrin had seen Willow naked more than once.

"Hello," Myrin greeted. "Heard you two going at it and figured you'd be hungry soon. Lots of laughing."

"Varhog's funny," Willow explained at exactly the same moment Varhog said, "Willow's funny." They both laughed again.

The babies finished up and began squirming to communicate their new need, which was to relieve themselves. Varhog recognized it perfectly. "Do you want to help them, Myrin, or do you want to see your older brother naked?"

Myrin raised an eyebrow. "I can help them, Varhog. But I assure you, I wouldn't be embarrassed if you weren't. If you've seen one naked ram, you've seen them all. You all have magnificent bodies, though yours is somewhat different because of the modified bristles. Here, why don't we each help one?"

"Fair enough," Varhog agreed, pulling one leg around Willow as she leaned forward. Myrin took baby Varhog from her and went to the chamber pot they had placed in their room for this very purpose. Varhog took William and walked to the window. Since it was already open, Varhog just stood at it, holding William over the sill and cuing the baby to relieve himself, which he promptly did, from both ends. The waste hit the dirt below, and that was it. When Varhog returned, he used a soft cloth to wipe William's chubby bottom, keeping him as he sat back down.

The twins often nursed, then slept, then nursed at their predetermined time, staying awake for the next stretch before nursing again and sleeping. Willow and Varhog never even tried, but the twins fell into this completely predictable pattern all on their own, and their parents simply went along with it. The twins' wakeful time was their parent's favorite, for the boys were both so much louder than Brom, babbling and sputtering nearly the whole time they were awake, especially if Willow and Varhog talked to them, which they always did.

Myrin repeated Varhog's actions when she returned with baby Varhog, laying him down on the bed in front of Varhog before handing Willow a large tray of food. Willow first drank the glass of water, which Myrin seemed to expect, for she immediately refilled it as Willow began eating.

"Thank you, Myrin," Willow said around mouthfuls. "I was just telling Varhog how lucky we are to have our family all around to wait on us hand and foot. I haven't even been out of this bed on my own two feet in a month, but Varhog ensures I get plenty of exercise. Or rather, I insist that he gives me plenty of exercise." She took another huge bite of the vegetable sandwich she was working on.

Myrin laughed. "A woman after my own heart. And isn't it wonderful knowing that no matter how many times you make love, there's no chance you'll conceive again for at least the next year, if not longer, with how demanding the twins' needs are?"

"That _is_ most welcome," Willow agreed.

Varhog animatedly spoke to the babies, who were gesturing with their chubby arms and hands, reaching for his face as they babbled.

"Hello there, handsome fellows," Varhog greeted, raising his voice almost as he had done when imitating Willow. "Look how strong and fat you're getting! You'll put father to shame one day if you keep up this pace. Do you now feel better? Your tummies are full of mother's warm milk. Isn't it tasty? I got some not long ago. It's so nice of you to share. Mother does the nicest things for me when I get to have a turn."

Varhog gave Willow a sidelong grin as she giggled. "And you've been able to go potty. So now you're ready to play and visit. Here, grab my horns. I know how you like that. That's right." In their uncoordinated movements, the babies each managed to close a fist around either one of Varhog's horns.

Varhog continued, "Mother had _her_ turn doing this just a moment ago as well, and it also leads to the nicest things imaginable. Wouldn't you know, it just happened to lead to _you_ both being here? I wonder if you two will someday have horns. We'll just have to wait and see, now won't we? Aren't your eyes turning such a splendid color? Just the right amount of mother's brown to remind father of her every time he looks at you. Isn't she beautiful? See her over there? She'll come visit you in a moment when she's done eating so her body can keep up with the demands of making your yummy milk. Then it will be my turn to eat, so _I_ can keep up with the demands of mother's body." He chuckled.

Willow laughed again as Varhog carried on and on, thinking of anything and everything to talk about with his sons. He was never more talkative than when he interacted with the babies. From their current habits, it seemed like they would talk early on, for they were determined to make their voices heard, somehow apparently knowing that such sounds were extremely important, as the big people around them also always made them.

When Willow was done eating and had drained two more glasses of water, she switched places with Varhog, who pulled on his pants with a grin at Myrin and moved around the bed to start his lunch.

Willow leaned close to the babies and cheerfully said, "Hello, babies!" while resting a hand on each of their bare tummies and rubbing gently. The babies squealed their recognition and delight, giving her the most joyful toothless grins.

"I missed you too, my boys," Willow said, smiling brightly in return, "though you were just eating. Don't you remember? Yep, that was me all right. Oh! Hello, William! I know, I see you there. You're so strong now. You always have been though. As have you, Varhog."

The babies vied for her attention, and she talked to each in turn. "Oh my! Now you have my nose." Her voice sounded nasally for a moment as baby Varhog tightly gripped her nose. "Good, strong grip, son. You'll be just like your father someday, won't you? He'll teach you to wrestle, and I'll teach you how to _really_ wrestle, so you can defeat him. At least until you're as big as he is." She laughed. "Ah! Ow! Oops. I should have pulled my hair up. Isn't it tempting? Yes, father likes to play with it too, but he knows how to be gentle. You must learn to be gentle too, William. It hurts mother when you pull so hard."

Willow swept her hair into a knot before scooping the babies up and holding one in each arm so they could see each other. Willow and Varhog both loved it when they really got started, for it looked as if they were waving and carrying on the most important conversation in the world. Willow giggled at their animated, earnest expressions.

She asked Myrin, "Is it normal for babies this young to interact and be this noisy? They're just now about a month. I always thought this didn't happen for several more months."

"It _is_ quite early," Myrin said. "None of mine every babbled like that until they were around four, five, six months old. But the twins _are_ the first two babies ever born to an Urgal and a human. Maybe they have some unique traits. Their eyes really are stunning. Such an amazing, light golden brown. They always look like they're shimmering. Did you know all of us fight to be the ones to come over and prepare your lunch? We all want the chance to see you interact with the twins. They don't behave this way for anyone else, and it's so adorable. We especially like seeing our silent, unassuming older brother act as he does. It's so endearing, Varhog."

Varhog grinned as best he could around his mouthful of food, and Willow said, "Isn't it, though? I knew he'd be the best father! They love him so much. It's so sweet watching him play with them."

After swallowing, Varhog said, "Not as much as they love you, Willow. Did you see how they lit up when you leaned over and they recognized you? Those grins they give you are my favorite sight ever. I can't get enough of seeing you with our sons."

Willow beamed at him before turning her attention back to the twins. Their skin seemed to more resemble hers, at least for now. It was slightly paler, perhaps taking on some of the gray of their father's, but it had the healthy pink flush one would expect in two breastfed babies. Their eyes were the light brown she had once thought they might be, but they shimmered as if full of gold. Willow had never seen an eye color like it. They were huge and fat, with delightful rolls all along their arms and legs. Their bellies were round and chubby, they had deep dimples in their cheeks when they grinned, which was constantly now, and they had the sweetest double chins right under the cleft they inherited from Varhog. Willow thought them the most beautiful babies she had ever seen, and everyone agreed because they _were_ very handsome boys.

"They're ready to eat again and take their nap. Maybe I will too," Willow said. "Would you like to join me, sweetheart? I know you're usually more tired than I am, with how busy I keep you."

"Of course, Eartheyes," Varhog replied. "There's nowhere I'd rather be, no three I'd rather have in my arms. Let me go relieve myself and wash up. I'll be back in two minutes."

"I want to come," Willow said. "I'm always sticky and covered in milk and various other bodily fluids. Let's bring the boys for a quick bath. They love the warm water."

"Shall I carry you all?" Varhog asked.

"No, thank you," Willow answered. "I think I'm ready to walk on my own again, if my legs can handle it after a month of being carried everywhere."

She laid the babies down before jumping up and stretching. "Ah, that feels great! No problem! Come on, boys," she said, once again grabbing the babies and holding each to a shoulder. "Time for a bath before lunch and your nap."

Myrin stayed behind as Willow and Varhog headed down the hall, but after a few minutes, she paused on her way out to bid them goodbye.

After addressing their needs in the washroom, they returned to the bedroom, noticing that Myrin had changed the sheets before slipping out after them. The babies were hungry and restless, so Willow and Varhog quickly situated themselves on the bed, helping the twins start their meal.

Once Varhog's arms were in place to support the babies, Willow moved her hands to touch them, stroking their silky soft hair, down their backs, over their dimpled bottoms, and along each chubby roll of their arms and legs. Their eyes drooped in weary contentment.

"They're so beautiful," Willow murmured. "I love them so much, Varhog. Thank you for giving me two babies, for making me a mother. I love you."

Varhog didn't reply, so she turned to look at his face. He was already asleep, apparently as soothed by her presence as the babies were. Willow thought herself the most blessed woman in the world, surrounded by these three handsome males. She kissed the cleft in Varhog's chin, which was the easiest place for her to reach and also one of her favorite features on his face. Then she let herself succumb to the relaxing effects of the nursing.


	9. Warning

9\. Warning

When news reached Varhog's village that the Riders from the Isle had arrived in Ilirea, Breetuk and the other young people from the Bolvek clan made ready to leave for Anghelm. Trayin, Varhog's second youngest sister, had taken a mate earlier in the spring, so Breetuk was the only of his siblings still single. Since she was nineteen, she fell within the age range—thirteen to twenty-three—of youth eligible to be considered as a Dragon Rider candidate. Breetuk was excited for the trip and to see the capitol, but she was sure she wouldn't be chosen, thinking it would be unfair for one clan to have two Riders, let alone one family.

The village had a huge midafternoon feast to celebrate the departure. After the eating was over, Myrintuk's family, along with Eragon and Arya, returned to her hut to have their own family celebration of the twins' one-month mark, now that Willow was feeling so well.

All of the babies were the center of attention. Myrin's baby Varhog was now over nine months old and crawling everywhere. Bruntog's new son was about six months old, and he was sitting on his own and scooting on his tummy all over the hearth rug, already as large as his older cousin, for he appeared to be taking after his Kull parents.

Then there was Brom, who was about four months old and so much daintier than the Urgal or Urgal-human babies all around him, though his smaller size made him very popular. Willow had been right in thinking her babies would be close to the same size as Brom when they were born, and they had quickly passed him up with their impressive rolls and dimples. But Brom was an exquisitely beautiful baby, and his eyes _had_ turned green, though they were a darker shade than Arya's, perhaps influenced by Eragon's brown. He was as sweet and happy as ever, giving smiles and giggles to all who held him until he needed to be returned to his mother.

The twins were the youngest though not smallest, thanks to Brom. They carried on in their usual talkative manner when awake, also following their predictable nursing and pottying routine. Their many aunts helped them as easily as their mother or father, and they happily slept in anyone's arms as long as they could be returned to Willow when they were hungry. They seemed to love the bustle and noise of the crowd, fitting right in with their animated gestures and voices.

After everyone had visited and chatted for over an hour, Garzhvog got their attention, informing the family that there was another purpose for this celebration—Breetuk's departure.

Once the room was silent, Myrintuk explained, "We feel we should share some of my history with the family as Breetuk prepares to travel to Anghelm. Just as was the case when Varhog, Myrin, and Naynuk went ten years ago, and the last time six years ago when Bruntog, Raygog, Trayin, and Breetuk went, I've never thought a dragon would hatch for one of my children. Especially after one _did_ hatch for Varhog, I've not thought to have the same honor in our family again. But now that Breetuk is older, even though the possibility is remote, we feel she needs to be prepared for the eventuality of meeting the king."

Myrintuk took a deep breath. "I think the best way to start is with the most difficult part. King Kulkarvek is my father." Most of her children exclaimed in surprise or disbelief, and Myrintuk held up her hands to stem the flow of questions that followed.

"Varhog and Willow know this, but only recently. I don't know that I need to expound every detail, and I don't even know them all anyway, but my father was originally from the Bolvek clan, and he left when just a youth, the year he got his horns. He is as hot-blooded an Urgal ram as they come. He never appreciated the gentler ways of the Bolvek tribe, so he abandoned his clan and sought glory by pursuing bloodshed and violence. He ended up in Anghelm with the Delvhtuk clan and that's where he met my mother, Myrintuk, who was also Kull. Kulkarvek had already proven his might in battle and bested every war chief from the Urgralgra clans, so he declared himself king and no one could contest him. His enormous size, strength, and ability with magic made him unstoppable. He sought Myrintuk as his mate, and she accepted. I never knew her, so I don't know if she loved him or if she felt compelled to accept him and was fearful of his wrath if she declined. I was born, and my mother died within a few years. My father was devastated.

"When I was old enough, this was the story he told me. Whether it's the full truth or not, I can't say. But I observed a few things in the years I lived in Anghelm before I met my husband Yarbog and left. My father hated Galbatorix with a fiery, vengeful wrath. I never knew why it was so intense, so deep, and so personal. He also hated dragons and stewed over how he might bring about the downfall of the only known living dragon at that time, even Shruikan. It was his obsession, and it drove him mad. I only mention these details for the sake of the Riders here. We know Kulkarvek killed Galbatorix's first dragon, and that the human king most likely hated him because of that. What I've never understood is why my father seemed to hate Galbatorix and Shruikan as much as he did. He never told me why. The one time I asked, he flew into a deadly rage and nearly killed me by accident in his fury. My guess is that Galbatorix sought revenge in some terrible way, but, as I said, I don't know for sure.

"Yarbog, Garzhvog's older brother, came to Anghelm with his father, who was then war chief of the Bolvek tribe, and I had never met such a kind and considerate ram, since the Delvhtuk clan, generally speaking, is—or was, at least—coarser. I was immediately smitten, and I suppose Yarbog found me attractive. I was told I looked just like my mother, who was considered a great beauty for one of our kind. We fell in love, and I told my father I wanted to accept Yarbog as my mate. I didn't run away, as he might be inclined to believe. He has no doubt warped the true nature of events in his years of bitterness. I never understood why he was so opposed, since he himself left the Bolvek tribe as a young ram. Perhaps the fact that I wanted to abandon him for the tribe he had abandoned in his youth _was_ the reason why. Whatever the case, he refused to give his permission, so I told him I would leave. My father was never kind or loving. He merely tolerated me as a reminder of his mate, and my life with him was miserable. But his reaction was terrible. He denounced me and told me never to return, so I never did. And I never missed him, so full and happy was my life with Yarbog."

Myrintuk paused, sadly regarding Garzhvog before continuing, "So that's a brief history. However, in light of current events and with Breetuk leaving, I thought it prudent to warn her. Bree, you look the most like me of any of my daughters, and in the rare event that you might find yourself in the presence of the king, if he notices you, he will most likely see me and especially his mate Myrintuk, just as she looked in her youth, since you are also Kull. I have no idea how the king would react if he learned you are my daughter. He didn't make the connection when Varhog was chosen and none of the rest of you were in his presence long enough for him to notice or care. As far as I know, he has no knowledge of my life or my children. He has never cared to learn, and I never cared to tell him. He told me I was as dead to him, and I didn't want to endanger my family because of how volatile and cruel the king is. I have long feared that he does not favor the idea of dragons hatching for the Urgralgra, and events during the winter only confirmed this suspicion. The more Dragon Riders we have, the more dangerous he will become. At least, that's my feeling since I know how explosive he is and how much he hated Galbatorix and Shruikan."

Myrintuk looked directly at Breetuk. "Be careful, Bree. I want you to be safe. When you went six years ago, you were young and didn't stand out above everyone. Now you'll be head and shoulders above many, even if there are other Kull in the group. And your name identifies you as from the Delvhtuk clan, which might lead to some confusion if people learn you're not."

"I'll be careful mother," Breetuk promised.

Varhog cleared his throat. "I have another favor to ask," he said, and Breetuk glanced over at him. "If for any reason you happen to meet the king and he asks about me as an Urgal Dragon Rider, please don't let on about Willow or the babies. Judging by how Garzhvog reacted when I first brought her here and knowing now of our connection with the king and of his nature, I fear his reaction would be most unpleasant." Breetuk nodded her understanding.

Not long after that, the families—including those of the Dragon Riders—began gathering up tired children to take them home to bed. Willow and Varhog each held a sleeping baby in their arms as they walked home with Eragon and Arya.

"I expect the other Riders will be here within a couple of weeks," Eragon said. "All of the Riders on the mainland. What shall we do with ourselves? Did you get the impression in Yazuac that there was some bitterness over my enforced absence from Alagaёsia?"

Varhog nodded. "It was as if the people felt we abandoned them or thought we considered ourselves too good to be here with them."

"Just the impressions I hoped to avoid," Eragon sadly said, "but I can easily see how they developed. Any ideas about what we can do to remedy the situation?"

"Perhaps the Riders can each visit a city within a couple of days' flight of here," Arya suggested. "There are many, and if the people can see us and get to know us better, they may come to have a different opinion, though we can't be sure they all feel that way."

"That might work, my love," Eragon agreed. "We can ask the dwarves to visit all of the dwarven cities on the way back to their homelands. I wouldn't expect Willow and Varhog to go anywhere yet, but perhaps in time. Tomath could fly with us to some of the human cities. Hanin and Maehrí could go to the elves. Grintuk of course will go to Anghelm. I hope that goes well. We haven't heard of any trouble since we last left Carvahall, but it sounds as if Kulkarvek can be aggravated with very little provocation when it comes to dragons and Riders."

Eragon sighed before finishing, "Anyway, eventually it would be really good for those of different races to visit the other peoples, to encourage cooperation and acceptance. What happened in Yazuac when Willow persuaded them to let Varhog stay for a few days was transformative. Once you're up to it, I think you two will be an essential key to this peace we seek. The most stubborn enmity is the one between the Urgralgra and the other races, but if both humans and Urgals can see your relationship, as well as Varhog's friendship with every Rider and his amazing command of all the languages, I think that will ease tensions better than anything else."

"I agree," Varhog said. "We might be up to it within the next few months. Flying with the twins is going to be interesting. They seem fully committed to whatever they do, and I'm sure that will extend to moving around, once they're able to. We'll find a way to make it work."

They had reached the natural parting point that would take Eragon and Arya off to their hut, and Willow and Varhog in the other direction, so they said their good nights and went their separate ways.


	10. Riders in Alagaёsia

10\. Riders in Alagaёsia

As Eragon predicted, the other Riders arrived in Varhog's village about ten days later, on the very same day as his and Arya's first wedding anniversary, and they considered it a wonderful gift to be reunited with all of their closest friends. The four Riders awaiting them were surprised to see Thorn approaching with the rainbow-colored thunder of dragons, unaware that Murtagh and Nasuada had decided to join those visiting from the Isle so everyone could meet all of the babies. It was breathtaking to see seven magnificent dragons flying together and descending outside the edge of the trees near Lake Fläm, in the same place the first group of Riders had landed the previous fall.

Thorn and his passengers landed first, followed by Blaze with Knilf on his back. Willow and Varhog could see the grin on Knilf's face all the way from where they were standing next to Black Thunder and Sunset, who had also missed the other dragons. They, Saphira, and Fírnen had come with their Riders to welcome their companions.

Vera and Hanin landed next, followed by Grintuk and Kuldr, then Bodin and his orange dragon Korda, which was Dwarvish for hammer. They were clearly landing in order of the Riders' seniority, which meant Tomath was next on his white dragon Snowfire. He was waving both hands, and before Silvan and Maehrí were on the ground or the other Riders had really begun to dismount, Tomath had loosened his saddle straps, leaping to the ground and breaking into a mad dash toward Willow. She quickly handed baby Varhog to his father so her arms would be free to catch Tomath as he flew into them, nearly bowling her over.

"Willow!" Tomath shouted. "Willow, I missed you so much! Life on the Isle was so dull without you!"

Willow laughed delightedly and began crying at Tomath's exuberant greeting. "Tomath! Oh my goodness, look how you've grown! It has been nearly a year since we left, hasn't it? You are as tall as many men now, Tomath. You'll soon be taller than me. Oh, how I missed you, darling. I'm sorry we've been away so long, and I'm so glad you could come now."

"I missed you too, Willow!" Tomath cried, finally pulling back and grinning as happily as the twins did whenever they saw her. "And I'm so close to my home now! I'm so excited to go see my real mother and father and all my little brothers and sisters. Uncle Varhog! You married Willow and these must be your two sons. Aren't they just a little over a month old? They're so huge! I guess I shouldn't be surprised though, since you are. I'm so happy! So happy! Can I hold one?"

"Certainly, Tomath," Varhog replied, handing him baby Varhog.

Tomath grunted as he took the baby. "He's so heavy. Like a rock. You must be getting so strong having to carry them around all day, Willow."

"Yes, it's true," she agreed.

"Is this one Varhog or William?" Tomath asked. Seeing their look of surprise at his knowledge, he explained, "Eragon told me when he scryed us just before we left. That was the day after they were born. I'm so glad you're all right, Willow. I was so scared when I heard you nearly died. What if I hadn't been able to see you again?"

"I'm sorry, Tomath. I was so uncomfortable at the end of my pregnancy that I couldn't bear the thought of flying all the way back to the Isle just to turn around and come all the way back here. Flying was painful by the end there. Thankfully, everything worked out. And now we get to be together. I hope you'll take us to meet your family. Oh, and that's baby Var. We started calling him that to make it easier to know if we were talking about him, his father, or his cousin, who both have the same name. They have these little bracelets to help people tell them apart."

"How useful," Tomath said. The babies had startled awake from their peaceful slumber in their parents' arms at the thundering of dragon wings. Baby Var looked up at Tomath with wide, alert, shimmering eyes.

"His eyes are so beautiful," Tomath commented. "I can see how they're the perfect mix of yours and Uncle Varhog's. I still can't believe you went and got married. Everyone assured me that Uncle Varhog loved you for _years_ , though I must have been too young to really understand or notice, especially since I hadn't been on the Isle that long. I'm pretty sure you didn't feel that way when you left though, did you?"

"My feelings had only begun to change a few weeks before," Willow answered, "just before Eragon's wedding. Around that time, everyone was talking about marriage, and I realized Varhog was everything I had ever wanted in a husband. But you're right. It did happen really quickly. All it took was Varhog confessing his undying love and adoration, which he did as we flew from the Isle to the mainland. I told him I felt exactly the same, and the rest is history. By the time we landed to discuss how our journey would proceed, we had made the decision to travel as soon as we could to his village and get married." She laughed and looked up at Varhog, who smiled back down at her.

"And now Murtagh and the queen, and Hanin and Maehrí!" Tomath cried. "And all the babies! It's so wonderful! The dwarves are anxious to get back home to find wives of their own, now that it's the thing to be doing. Hanin and Maehrí told us of the events surrounding Brom's birth and the blessings extended to the Riders by Ellei-an and Gelarik. We were all really glad to hear that. How amazing that his life was restored just like that. I can't imagine how awful it would have been to see Eragon's baby born still and lifeless. Hanin told me it was terrible. At least Murtagh's baby and his wife were both fine."

Knilf had finally made his way over and gave Varhog a cheerful embrace by wrapping his arms around Varhog's legs. "Ho, way up there! Hail, mine brother! Get down here so I can see that baby in your arms." Varhog chuckled and squatted down.

"By the stones!" Knilf cried. "He's already as big as I! How old is he now?"

"Six weeks old, my friend," Varhog replied.

"Nay, it cannot be! Well, why should I be so surprised? With a monster of a ram like you for his father and a giant for a mother? Willow, my dear! How are you? I'm glad to see you looking as bright and rosy as ever. We heard of the difficulty of your labor." Willow also squatted to give Knilf a tight hug.

"I'm so wonderful! So happy, Knilf!" Willow cried. "Especially now that we get to be reunited with the rest of the Riders for a time. We were gone so long. Too long! Are you well?"

"Never better, lass," Knilf declared. "What a flight! Blaze was overjoyed to have such an excuse to fly like that. We were happy to have Hanin back." Hanin and Maehrí had joined them, along with all of the others. "And with a pretty little wife, no less. Not fair, if you ask me, that he got to have her all to himself all those months. None of the rest of us even had a chance!" His eyes twinkled merrily as he looked up at Maehrí. "You know I'm only joking, mine sister. Right? I hope so. You must needs learn that most everything that leaves my mouth is only jest. And could any of the rest of us really have stood a chance against Hanin's good looks and charm? Hardly! No, Bodin and I here need to be getting ourselves back to the Beors. Greta is anxious for me to return so we can finally marry without concern that she will one day die and leave me behind."

Bodin chuckled. "Indeed! I need to find a pretty dwarf maid who thinks my short legs, broad shoulders, and long beard are the handsomest features imaginable. Although, after hearing the story of Ellei-an and Gelarik, maybe I _should_ be looking among the elves, as Hanin once suggested. Give me a few decades, and I'm sure I too could win any elf maid's heart!"

Knilf laughed along with him, continuing their jovial dialogue, "And Grintuk, of course! Why after hearing Hanin's good fortune, I think he's more excited for this next Choosing Ceremony than he'll ever admit, stoic Urgal that he is. Perhaps we'll have another female join us. Too many males. Always caused problems, didn't it? Until Willow showed up! Thank the stones she did!"

Grintuk smiled broadly at Knilf's assertion, and Varhog chuckled. No one could be serious when Knilf was talking, and there were smiles all around as everyone now began embracing and greeting one another. After hugging Bodin, Grintuk, Hanin, and Maehrí, Willow made her way to Nasuada and Murtagh, as did Arya and Eragon, anxious to see their daughter. She too was awake and looking around with bright blue eyes that were a striking contrast to her brown skin and the halo of dark, fluffy hair surrounding her head.

"Oh! She's so gorgeous, Nasuada!" Willow exclaimed. "Look at that hair! And she has your eyes, brother! How am I always predicting these things? But she's so small compared to the twins. More like Brom. Four babies in less than a year! Look at us! We Riders really know how to make beautiful babies. And quickly too! And Hanin's and Maehrí's baby will no doubt be absolutely angelic with those two as its parents."

"Would you like to hold her?" Nasuada asked with a proud smile.

"Would I! Of course!" Willow said. "My arms feel empty without a baby in them. Oh hello, sweetheart," she crooned as Nasuada transferred Selena to her arms. "Aren't you so precious? You're like I was. First female to join the ranks of the Riders' babies. Save Arya, of course, though she wasn't there most of the time. We'll need more to keep you company. Varhog, let's have a daughter next."

"Already thinking of the next one?" Murtagh said with a wry laugh. "Even after nearly dying to give birth to your sons?"

"Oh, stop bringing that up!" Willow chided. "Look at me! I've never been better! And don't worry. I can talk and talk, but I'll not have another for some time with how those boys nurse. Every hour on the hour around the clock. Maybe that's why I even can joke about the next one. I know with certainty that he or she or they won't be along for several years."

"Let me have one of yours," Nasuada begged.

As Varhog extended William out to her, Willow warned, "Be prepared, Your Majesty. He's about twice as heavy as your little one."

Nasuada grunted as she took William, just as Tomath had done. "I didn't believe you, but I should have," she laughed. "My goodness! How do you lug him around all day, let alone two of him?"

"Only because I have their father to help," Willow replied. "They're just the right size babies for him. With a small, thin thing like this, Varhog would surely always worry about snapping them in half. Not that I don't absolutely love you, Selena," Willow crowed at the baby.

"We like to call her Lena for short," Murtagh said.

"Oh, I beg your pardon, Lena," Willow corrected herself. "Your eyes are so mesmerizing."

"As are William's," Nasuada observed. "Shimmering golden brown. Look at this, Murtagh."

William reached out for Nasuada's face, babbling loudly. "Why hello, William!" Nasuada greeted. "Aren't you so strong and handsome?" William jabbered right back at her, and she smiled in delight. "Quite the talker then, aren't you? You must get that from your mother. Though I must be honest, I've also heard your father say his fair share of fine words." As William kept right on blustering and gesturing, Nasuada giggled. "How old is he again? Weren't they born the same day as Lena?"

"Yes, that's right," Willow confirmed.

"Have they been this social and talkative for long?" Nasuada wondered.

"It increases every day," Willow replied. "They've been this way for several weeks with me and Varhog, and they're just starting to interact more with others. They're hilarious when they can see each other. They're already the best of friends, holding hands whenever they nurse, talking and waving when they're facing one another. It's so precious."

As they started walking toward the large group of Urgralgra who had gathered to welcome the new set of Riders, Murtagh asked, "We need not fear any fighting this time around, do we?"

Varhog chuckled. "No, brother. Just feasting. We thought we would skip the brawling."

"Unless you and Eragon feel the need to arm wrestle or duel over who has the most beautiful baby," Willow teased.

"Good point, sister," Murtagh agreed with a playful grin at Eragon. "Well, which shall it be, brother? We cannot leave this matter uncontested."

Eragon laughed. _He_ was now holding Selena, and Murtagh was holding Brom. "Can we settle it by saying that you have the most beautiful daughter and I the most beautiful son, of the babies in question?"

"I suppose I can accept that," Murtagh relented as Brom giggled in response to a gentle tickle on his tummy. "He certainly likes his uncle, now doesn't he? Don't you, Brom? Your eyes _did_ turn green. You really are a handsome boy. Be glad you took after your mother." He grinned again at Eragon.

Eragon said to Arya, who was looking on in serene joy, "I'm of the same mind as Willow, my love. We must have a daughter next. Is there a way to increase our chances?"

Arya laughed. "There is thought to be a fairly reliable way of improving one's chances of conceiving a male or female. I'll tell you about it sometime. How's that?"

"Fair enough," Eragon allowed. "So long as it can either be preceded or followed by a demonstration." He laughed as Arya blushed faintly. "I thought you were past embarrassment at discussion of this topic. How glad I am I was wrong. I've missed seeing that beautiful blush." He leaned over and kissed her cheek. "I know you want a turn with her. Here you go, my love." Arya eagerly accepted Lena.

All of the babies were being passed around in like manner. The dwarves had a fine time with the twins, looking something like twins themselves for how similar their builds and beards made them appear.

"This is how a dwarf baby is," Knilf declared. "Solid as stone, though not so long. Ah! What a strong grip you have, my lad. Easy to get a fistful of that beard, isn't it?" Baby Var had grasped a large chunk of Knilf's beard and was babbling about it in the funniest way. Then he suddenly giggled as Knilf used his chin to tickle Var's neck.

"He laughed!" Willow exclaimed. "Do it again, Knilf!" So he did, and it had the same effect. Bodin tried the same tactic with William and received the same response. Soon the twins' joyful giggles were filling the air and all joined in, unable to resist.

Willow wiped tears from her eyes. "Oh, that's the most beautiful sound I've ever heard. Eragon can get Brom to do the same thing with his beard. Too bad Urgals don't grow facial hair. We'll no doubt find a way to earn the same response, Yelloweyes. They seem to love their dwarven uncles."

"That they do!" Bodin proudly declared. "What fine sons, Willow and Varhog. Congratulations! But he now seems intent on eating my nose. I think he's after something _I_ can't provide him with. Here you go, my dear." He handed William up to Willow.

"Hmm," Willow mused. "Shall I try to feed him now? Var will surely want to join him. I could feed one standing up, but I'm not sure about both. Varhog always helps me hold them so my arms don't tire. We'll be to the village in about ten more minutes, but that's as long as it takes him to eat and I don't want to make him wait. Any ideas, sweetheart?"

"I could carry you," Varhog offered. "Or we could sit on one of our dragons. That might be easiest." Baby Var was indicating his hunger by attempting similar moves on Knilf's shoulder, so Varhog accepted the baby from the dwarf, then he and Willow walked over to Sunset and climbed up to her shoulders.

As they expertly situated the babies, everyone observed in interest. "We'll still be able to talk," Willow reassured them from their high seat. "They'll soon be done, and then they'll sleep in anyone's arms for the next hour."

"After they go potty," Varhog added.

The babies ate as efficiently as ever, even hungrier after all of the excitement of the past hour. They had been awakened from a nap, so they were also extra sleepy, but as they finished their meal, their full bladders beckoned to be relieved. The boys squirmed in frustration, wanting to drift off to sleep, but also not wanting to soil their mother or their comfortable location in her arms.

Willow and Varhog slipped back down off the dragon, removing the twins' little pants with practiced motions. Then they held the babies away from their bodies to give them the opportunity to relieve themselves over the forest floor, which they both immediately did. By the time their pants were back on, they were both fast asleep, breathing deeply.

Willow looked around at her friends. "Anyone want a turn?" she offered.

Maehrí hopefully extended her arms, and Willow gave her the baby. "That was amazing!" Maehrí cried as Varhog handed the other twin to Hanin. "They both knew just what to do! And you two have their feeding system down to an art. I'm impressed."

"They fell into their own little routine with no urging from us," Varhog informed everyone. "Willow and I merely observed what they needed, and our job has been that easy ever since. Feed them, potty them, play and talk with them, potty and feed them, then let them sleep. I thought it would be so much more complicated than that, but it hasn't been. Maybe they're just really good babies, but this is how nearly every Urgralgra cub is. Their needs are so appropriately met, they have no reason to be unhappy."

"How lovely!" Maehrí cried. "I'm so excited to be able to see it for a time. I admit, I was so curious the first time I ever heard Willow say what a unique and delightful culture you have. Arya, do you also attend to Brom's potty needs in that way?"

"Absolutely," Arya replied. "Eragon has been quite the expert right from the start. He's even better at knowing when Brom needs to relieve himself than I am. It's their special little bond, since feeding him is mine. We all first saw the technique here in the Urgal village with Varhog's nephew, who happens also to be named Varhog. I was astounded! I thought the elves knew the best way of doing everything, but I was wrong."

"I know what you mean," Maehrí said, giving Hanin a happy smile as she rubbed her adorable little belly, which was only just starting to show, though she was already halfway through her pregnancy.

"It's working amazingly well with Lena too," Murtagh commented. "She's quite the particular creature, just the proper little lady you would expect. She won't relieve herself into a baby cloth now that she knows she has an alternative. It has always been my pet project, just as you said with Eragon. I like feeling there's a way I can meet her needs that's just as important as what Nasuada does with feeding her. But it sometimes drives the palace midwives crazy. They were more than a little skeptical of our wishes surrounding her birth, but of course Nasuada held her ground, bless her, and we had just the kind of birth Myrin and Tarhvek did, with no interference from well-meaning palace staff. It was perfect, the best experience of my life. Wouldn't you agree, Your Majesty?" he finished with a tender smile at his wife.

"Wholeheartedly," Nasuada said. She was now holding her own baby, nursing her as they walked, just as Arya was doing. "I'm so glad we were able to witness that birth here and that I could see so many women breastfeeding. I'm sure our experience would have been completely different had I not felt so confident. I might have been convinced to have many attendants present, worried about my own abilities and the pain I might feel. Or, heaven forbid, I might have been persuaded to take a wet nurse, if ill-informed advisors warned me that the demands of breastfeeding would be too much for me with my political responsibilities. I have loved being able to have this bond with Lena, and it's so easy to keep her everywhere we are. I can feed her just as soon as she's hungry, and Murtagh helps her with her potty needs. We've placed a chamber pot in every room we're most often in if there's not already a toilet nearby. I'm so glad she'll grow up knowing her parents rather than being isolated from them like so many royal babies. All thanks to our observations of and time spent among the Urgralgra."

They reached the village, and Eragon commented, "I know you all think this feast is to celebrate your arrival, but the _real_ reason is that it's my first wedding anniversary with this beautiful woman. The Urgals just happened to know and prepared a huge feast, complete with plenty of meat that neither of us will touch." He laughed.

Murtagh also laughed, apparently feeling an irresistible urge to rib his brother as he added, "Married a year with a four-month-old baby? Hmm. How did that work out?"

Eragon grinned, perfectly aware that Murtagh knew the answer and playing along for the fun of it. "You know, Arya _did_ attack me the moment she arrived on the Isle. That must have been it. She always pretended not to like me, but you should have seen how she couldn't keep her hands—or lips—off of me."

Arya blushed. "But Eragon was the perfect gentleman and refused to go through with it, insisting we first get married."

"Are you _sure_ , my love?" Eragon asked with affected confusion. "How else could we have a four-month-old baby after only a year of marriage?"

Arya elbowed him. "You two are insufferable. Besides, we were married less than a week later, which would hardly explain the four week discrepancy we're talking about here."

"True, though I don't think you should let them think I was always the perfect gentleman. Remember how _I_ acted when you first kissed me? I was so shocked that my self-control completely abandoned me for a moment. And then you started to _undress_! How _did_ I resist that? Help from the heavens, now that I know how freely they give it. That's the only possible explanation."

Arya laughed, as did Maehrí, who also said, "That sounds remarkably familiar. Was that not almost exactly how events unfolded for us, Hanin?"

"Yes, Maehrí," Hanin agreed with a smile. "You elven women really give the wrong impression with your coy, proper hold to courtesy above all else. Get a man to propose to you and _that_ flies out the window."

Maehrí giggled. "But how happy I am that Dragon Riders learn self-control, for neither Arya nor I might have experienced the miracle of such early pregnancies without it and the reassurances it gave us." Arya nodded fervently.

Maehrí then thoughtfully asked, "Do you think that might also have anything to do with our bonds to dragons? I know the infertility of our race was not as pronounced when the Riders were enjoying their Golden Days."

"That could very well be," Arya agreed. "Both surely played important roles."

-:-:-

Before the topic was completely abandoned, poor Tomath spoke up. He had been trying his very best to follow the conversation, much of which was above him, but he still didn't understand, so he timidly ventured, "I know I'm revealing my youthful ignorance here, and it's embarrassing, but I still don't understand how Eragon could be married only a year and have a four-month-old baby unless he. . . . Well, you know," he awkwardly finished.

Eragon laughed, moving to put his arm around Tomath's shoulders. "I'm sorry, Tomath. We Riders have become so accustomed to joking about topics only married people, or people old enough to be married, fully understand. I promise, little brother, that I did not share my love with Arya in a physical way before we were married, as Murtagh implied. And nor should you, when you come to that time in your life. The way Brom is already four months old though we've been married only a year is that the length of a pregnancy is determined from a starting point roughly two weeks before the pregnancy actually even begins. More importantly, we forced Brom to be born three weeks before Arya's full term because of the danger with the cord around his neck. Does that help you understand?"

Tomath nodded gratefully. "Yes, Eragon. Thank you. I never pictured you doing that because of how pointedly you always taught me about self-control, so I was confused."

"As you should have been," Eragon approved. "I would have been a poor example and a hypocrite if I couldn't follow my own counsel. I'm glad you asked for clarification, Tomath. If you ever wonder about this topic, please don't hesitate to ask. As a human growing up among humans, I know how confusing and mysterious this topic is. It shouldn't be. Saphira and I had this discussion once, at an odd time actually, but that's beside the point. Young people should understand intimacy. Both that it's wonderful and they should anticipate it, as well as that it's powerful and they should respect it and save the sharing of it for the proper time." Tomath nodded again, grateful for the invitation, though he had no intention of acting on it right then.

They made their way to a table, and once the Riders sat, the feasting began. The festivities continued on long into the night. When the Riders were finally ready to retire, their gracious hosts directed them to the various lodging arrangements they had prepared.

Tomath stayed with Willow and Varhog, while Hanin and Maehrí accompanied Eragon and Arya to their hut. Nar Garzhvog's unmarried children had long since moved in with their father and Myrintuk, so Garzhvog's vacant home was available for Grintuk and the dwarves. Murtagh and Nasuada were shown to the same dwelling they had been in during their previous stay.

Tomath wished to see his family as soon as possible, so the next day he made the short trip to Daret, surprising his family with his arrival. They were overjoyed to see their son and brother, something they hadn't expect for another two years. Tomath stayed for several days before returning to Varhog's village.

-:-:-

The dwarves stayed only a few days before declaring their intentions to fly to the Beors. But before they left, the Urgralgra insisted on seeing a demonstration in axe throwing, and they were glad they did. Not even the strongest Kull could ever out throw either dwarf. Thanks to the example of Varhog and Grintuk, who were clearly such good friends with the dwarves, the other Urgals soon learned to look on them with kindness, appreciating their cheerful wit and merry manner.

As they prepared to depart, Eragon requested that the dwarves visit as many dwarven cities as they could to encourage more familiarity with the Riders.

-:-:-

The two visiting Rider couples spent their time with the two couples already living in Varhog's village. Hanin and Maehrí enjoyed the endless opportunities to observe the Urgralgra way of life, agreeing with most of what they saw. Murtagh and Nasuada appreciated the chance to be with the two young families so Lena could be around the other three babies. Brom was now at the stage the twins had reached so early on, babbling and jabbering whenever he could. Lena was a more serious baby, but very sweet, and she would watch everything with her wide blue eyes and smile at the twins' silliness.

-:-:-:-


	11. Anghelm

11\. Anghelm

Grintuk left the same day as Tomath to fulfill his duty of taking the dragon egg for the next Rider Choosing Ceremony, knowing from experience how long the process could take. He had been one of hundreds of Urgralgra youth who had gathered six years earlier when Murtagh brought the last egg to the Urgals.

Before Grintuk had departed, Varhog requested that he keep any knowledge of Willow and the babies from King Kulkarvek, and Grintuk had solemnly agreed. He was more familiar with the personality of the king than anyone in Varhog's clan save Myrintuk, who had also grown up in Anghelm. Grintuk had also scryed the king to ensure that the youth from each clan had arrived and were ready for him to bring the egg. The king had curtly acknowledged it was so and rudely ended the scrying session.

The Riders who had returned to Alagaёsia the prior year had filled Grintuk in on all events and information regarding Kulkarvek, warning him to be careful. But Grintuk already knew how important caution would be, as well as that taking Kuldr to Anghelm was a risk. As all members of the Delvhtuk clan, Grintuk was familiar with Kulkarvek's animosity toward dragons, and he also remembered how the king had acted when Murtagh and Nar Garzhvog arrived on Thorn six years ago, but he hoped his sire's surmise—that Kulkarvek wouldn't harm himself or Kuldr—would prove accurate. The other Riders had advised him to be prepared to fly away at the slightest sign of trouble, since fighting would most likely have no effect.

Grintuk had no idea how to resolve the situation. If the old king would die, it would solve so many problems, but Kulkarvek never seemed any closer to death. Grintuk's mother assured him that the king appeared exactly as he had when she was a youth, and his grandmother said the same thing. Galbatorix's curse really must have made the king invincible, or at least incapable of dying by normal means.

Grintuk knew the youth from the various Urgal clans had traveled for weeks to arrive in Anghelm on time, but he made the same journey in a day and a half. As a single male flying alone, he and Kuldr could continue almost tirelessly, in the same way Grintuk could run nonstop for days on end as a Kull warrior. He arrived at the Urgralgra capitol just a few days after the Riders had converged upon Varhog's village.

The morning the Choosing Ceremony was scheduled to begin, he walked with Kuldr into the city center, hoping that might be better than flying. He had debated over leaving his dragon alone, but they both decided they would rather be together, where they could protect each other if it came to it. He arrived outside the city center before dawn and waited for the youth to start showing up.

They came in groups by clan, and Grintuk began interacting with them, conducting himself as a Dragon Rider should. He was taller and stronger than anyone else, even other young Kull males, since he was older than all of them, and he could see that most of the youth were intimidated by him, so he tried to be kind and mild.

-:-:-

Breetuk also arrived early on, but she hung back, worried about if and when the king might show up. She sat down on a rock so she would be less conspicuous, but she could still see Grintuk through the sparse crowds of Urgralgra youth, who stayed clumped together in their familiar groups, unsure of how the event would proceed.

Grintuk was apparently waiting for something because he was in no hurry as he made his rounds. Breetuk was amused by how much like Varhog he seemed. She could tell he was very strong and deadly, but he tried to be friendly and make everyone feel comfortable, smiling and joking in a manner that was clearly shocking to many of the youth, though not to Breetuk, since her family was exactly the same.

Breetuk kept her eyes on Grintuk as he eventually made his way over to where she was sitting, thinking about how she and her girlfriends always fantasized about the Dragon Rider and how handsome he was. When he stopped in front of her, he looked down, and she looked up, wondering if anyone had told him Varhog had a little sister at the Ceremony. He didn't show any signs of recognition as he extended his hand.

"I'm Grintuk, the guardian Dragon Rider at this Ceremony," he introduced.

Breetuk stood, noticing her height as a Kull surprised him. She was about four inches shorter than he and suddenly realized she was the only female Kull in attendance. But once she had, she wasn't surprised, for female Kull were far less common than males. She shook Grintuk's hand and replied, "I'm Breetuk."

"Are you from the Delvhtuk clan?" Grintuk asked, recognizing the suffix in her name.

"No," Breetuk answered.

"Which clan are you from?" Grintuk pressed, smiling slightly at her reticence.

Breetuk smiled in return before saying, "The Bolvek clan."

"The same clan as the other Urgralgra Rider beside myself," Grintuk stated.

"The very same," Breetuk confirmed in amusement. He clearly didn't know she was Varhog's little sister. "You know, Grintuk, you remind me of one of my brothers."

"Is that so?" he asked, now smiling more sincerely. "How?"

"All of the ways you remind me of him are good," Breetuk reassured. "You're strong and intimidating, but you're also considerate. I saw you attempting to make the others feel at ease. That's just the sort of thing he would also do. I wonder why you're so similar," she teasingly finished, unable to help herself and looking forward to his expression when he discovered her brother's identity.

Grintuk creased his brow in surprise at her assessment. "You think I'm all of those things? How would you know?"

"Maybe I'm wrong," Breetuk casually said. "It seemed that way from my observations."

-:-:-

Grintuk was amazed that this female was acting so comfortable around him when all of the others had fallen somewhere within the range of unbelievably shy to ridiculously fawning. "You don't seem as intimidated by me as the others," he observed.

"No, I'm not," Breetuk apologized, grinning. "I'm sorry if that's disappointing. Perhaps I can also thank my brother for that."

Grintuk pieced together the relevant bits of information and answered with a knowing grin of his own. "No, it's not disappointing. More like refreshing. So then, is Varhog this brother you keep referring to?"

"Aye, the very same," she repeated, teasing again.

"Hmm. Interesting. He never spoke of his family on the Isle, at least not with me. I'm sure he told Willow. He's only one of your brothers?"

"Yes, one of four, and I have three sisters. I'm the youngest. All the rest have mates. I'm here only as a formality. I also came six years ago when I was thirteen. I hardly think the next dragon would hatch for a member of the same family as another Rider, but I confess I have no idea how they choose or how it all works."

Grintuk suddenly found himself wishing the egg _would_ hatch for Breetuk, but he immediately pushed the thought from his mind.

 _Blast it, Knilf! Teasing me with all that talk of Hanin finding his mate at the Elf Choosing Ceremony!_ Breetuk was looking at him expectantly, and Grintuk tried to remember the last thing she had said. Something about not knowing how the dragons chose their Riders.

He cleared his throat, and she smiled again, which made her even prettier. Before his thoughts could scatter, Grintuk lamely confessed, "Uh, I'm not really sure either. The dragons look for traits in the person they're presented with that _they_ think will be important. They seem to be able to sense the person's nature on a deeper level, somehow aware of things that aren't obvious to the naked eye. Like with Willow. She was so frail and thin, not at all what most people would expect of a Dragon Rider, but she has been essential to the success of the Riders on the Isle. And Arya. And Maehrí."

What was he doing! Going on about how important the female Riders were to a female candidate? Breetuk continued to smile, and Grintuk could tell she was enjoying his sudden decline into awkwardness.

Grintuk realized he had spent an inordinately long amount of time with Breetuk. Far longer than with any of the others. He tried to think of a way to excuse himself, even though he didn't want to, when the booming voice of the king echoed around the clearing at the center of the city where they were gathered. Breetuk glanced toward the sound and swiftly sat again, a look of concern on her face. Grintuk was confused by her reaction and felt an inexplicable sense of protectiveness, but he also knew he needed to approach Kulkarvek, so he left Breetuk for a time.

King Kulkarvek had magnified his voice to precede him, and he _now_ strode into sight. He was terrible to behold—ten feet tall with enormous blood-red horns that curled into a tight spiral. That alone should have been indication enough of his tremendous age, for the horns never stopped growing, and later gains in size mainly increased their width rather than length. But the horns of very old Urgals usually began to wear away with time, and Grintuk wondered if the king somehow used magic to preserve his own. Kulkarvek was nearly twice as broad as Grintuk, who was formidable as a Kull Dragon Rider, with long white hair held together in a single braid down his back, creating a stark contrast to his grisly horns. He was clothed only in a loin cloth, and his wiry bristles were also white against his gray skin. His yellow eyes showed no sign of age, however. They were as keen and cruel as any Grintuk had ever seen, and they shone with a frightful glint, hinting at the madness behind the mask.

Grintuk instructed Kuldr to hang back when he saw the king give his dragon a malevolent glare, but Kulkarvek seemed intent on behaving himself for the brief welcome required of him.

"Welcome, Dragon Rider," he bellowed. "May you quickly accomplish your purpose of finding your next comrade and just as swiftly depart with your deadly beasts. Welcome youth of the Urgralgra. Enjoy your stay in Anghelm."

Grintuk silently raised his chin, knowing he shouldn't bash his fists or bellow. The king did not recognize any as his equal and such a gesture would only cause affront, which could be deadly. "Thank you for your welcome, Your Majesty," Grintuk said. "We'll begin the Ceremony at once and intrude on your hospitality no longer than necessary. When the next Rider has been chosen, would you like me to present him or her to you?"

"If you must, boy," the king spitefully snapped. "Bring them to the barrows but don't expect a celebration. The sooner this is over with, the better. I'll not soon be celebrating the hatching of yet another dragon in this land." He spat before turning on his heel and striding out of sight just as quickly as he had appeared, his long legs taking him away impossibly fast, though he didn't run.

Grintuk slowly released his pent-up breath, grateful the audience with the king had been so brief. He went to Kuldr and retrieved the dragon egg from the velvet-lined case within which it was nestled, then turned to face the youth.

"Please gather together, everyone," he called, magically magnifying his voice as the king had done, though not so loudly.

The dozens of young Urgralgra quickly assembled, and Grintuk began his explanation with a warning. "I caution you all to stay out of trouble during your time here. You don't want to do anything to bring yourself undue attention from the king. If you must engage in grappling or fighting, do so outside the borders of the city. We'll attempt to conduct this Ceremony as efficiently as possible. The first stage will involve introducing yourself to the dragon inside this egg. She's female. She doesn't yet have a name. She and her new Rider will determine that whenever the Rider is chosen. You can say as much or as little as you want. She'll be able to sense things about you with her mind. In this way, she'll come to know all for whom she might potentially hatch. This stage should only take a few hours. The next stage will be longer. Each youth will have the chance to spend a day with the egg to give the dragon more time to sense what she needs to about all of the potential candidates. Are there any questions?"

Breetuk, who was at the front of the crowd, asked, "Has it ever happened that the dragon hatched for someone before the second stage?"

"Not that I'm aware of," Grintuk replied, not surprised she had asked a question. All of the others still seemed too nervous to have the courage.

So Breetuk asked another question. "You said she can communicate with her mind. Can _you_ sense her thoughts? What if she knew who she wanted to hatch for and didn't want to have to go through everyone until she got to that person? Could she indicate that?"

A series of questions. Grintuk grinned then quickly cleared his face. "She could if she wanted to. She has touched my mind, since I've interacted with her extensively in teaching her Urgralish. She might sense from me the tension in the king and see fit to shorten the length of the ceremony. We shall see." He took his eyes off of Breetuk with some difficulty and looked around. "Anyone else?"

No one spoke so Grintuk said, "Very well, then. Let's begin. Breetuk, since you're right here, why don't you be first? Introduce yourself to the dragon." He handed her the egg.

-:-:-

Breetuk reverently accepted the egg, which was smooth and oblong—about a foot and a half from end to end—and lighter than she expected from its size. The color captivated her—deep purple with streaks of shimmering bronze.

"Hello," she breathed. "It's strange to address you like this . . . I don't even know how to refer to you." She laughed. "Well, I'd best not take all day. I'm Breetuk of the Bolvek clan. My brother is Varhog, first Urgralgra Dragon Rider. Perhaps you're familiar with him or maybe his dragon, Black Thunder? I don't know how much you're aware of in there. I realize my chances of meeting you are so slim. It hardly seems fair for there to be two Riders from the same clan, let alone the same family. It would be an immeasurable honor, but I don't expect it. Most of those present feel the same, and many of them are far more deserving than I. I know you'll find the right Rider for yourself. I guess that's all."

She studied the egg a moment longer, trying to imagine how something as large as Grintuk's dragon had once fit into such a small space. As she glanced back up at Grintuk, Breetuk recognized certain emotions before he lowered his eyes. Did he _want_ her to become the next Dragon Rider? Why would that be?

Breetuk extended the egg toward him. When their hands were both touching it, a faint presence was suddenly in her mind, and Breetuk jumped, nearly dropping the egg as she heard, _You_ are _my Rider, Breetuk. I already feel sure of it, but I will meet the others just in case. I look forward to meeting you, Bree._

She looked at the egg in astonishment then up at Grintuk, wondering if he had also heard. His eyes were filled with awe. "You heard that?" she asked quietly, and he nodded. "I didn't mean . . . I'm sorry." Breetuk was apologetic, thinking it unfair the dragon had reached that conclusion without even meeting the others.

"Bree?" Grintuk wondered, repeating the nickname the dragon had used.

"My family and friends call me that," Breetuk explained. "How would she know?"

"Unless she sensed it from your mind, it might have struck her fancy. The dragons often come up with a way to refer to their Riders, a pet name. Willow's dragon calls her sunshine."

"It doesn't seem fair," Breetuk objected. "Take her to meet the others. Maybe she'll change her mind."

Grintuk took the egg in his hands and said nothing, though his eyes seemed to say that he hoped the dragon wouldn't change her mind.

Breetuk sat and stared at the ground as Grintuk moved away from her, conscious that some of the others were looking at her. She wondered how many had guessed what had happened from what they had observed and overheard.

For the next many hours as Grintuk took the egg from one youth to the next, Breetuk alternated between excitement the dragon might hatch for her and dread the dragon _would_ hatch for her. If the dragon _did_ hatch for her, she would meet the king, who would surely recognize her as related to Myrintuk. What would happen then? Would he fly into a rage and try to kill her or the newly hatched dragon? She had seen how hatefully he had glared at Grintuk's dragon and wondered why Kulkarvek was so venom on dragons. If anything, it seemed like it should be the other way around, since the only time she knew of that he had interacted with any was when he had killed Galbatorix's first dragon.

Breetuk wrung her hands before pulling her knees up and wrapping her arms around them to keep her anxiety under control. She was barely aware of time passing as she watched a line of small ants marching purposefully by her foot. Suddenly Grintuk's boot was within her view only inches from the ants, and she worried he would crush them. Then she shook herself out of her reverie and looked up. He had his hand extended down to help her to her feet, and she accepted the gesture, rising swiftly with his assistance.

She looked at him questioningly before realizing by the different position of the sun that many hours had passed and he must have finished the first stage of the Ceremony.

"We're going to break for lunch and resume the Ceremony after," he informed her. "Since you were first to introduce yourself, you'll also be first for the next stage. Would you like to join me for lunch?"

Breetuk raised her eyebrows. "It would be an honor," she replied. "Thank you."

Grintuk quickly announced the plans for the benefit of the other youth, informing them who should arrive the following morning for their turn with the egg. He also told them that if and when the dragon hatched, the others would be notified and free to return home at that time. As the young Urgralgra began to disperse and head back to their camps, Breetuk noticed some of her friends casting envious glances in her direction.

Breetuk walked by Grintuk's side as they headed toward his dragon, asking, "Did the dragon speak to anyone else?"

"No, Breetuk," Grintuk replied, looking over at her. "Why do you appear to be so concerned? You said you would feel honored if she hatched for you."

"I would," Breetuk agreed, glancing at his face. "It's just . . ." she trailed off, not sure how to explain her concern. "Did you get to meet my family in my village?" she finally asked.

"Aye," he said, appearing confused by her abrupt change of topic. "You look just like your mother must have looked when she was younger."

"Exactly!" Breetuk cried, relieved her tangent had led him right to where she hoped. "Grintuk, my mother is the king's only daughter. I look just like her, and she looked just like her mother, who was Kull, though my mother isn't. If I have to meet the king, my mother feared he would see in me his mate as she must have looked when he first met her. She died when my mother was very young. Kulkarvek was devastated and always partially blamed my mother for some reason. Knowing what we do about the king, I fear it might be dangerous. That's why I'm concerned."

His face was grave as he listened to her explanation. "Thank you for sharing that with me, Breetuk," he said. "I believe that you are right. If the dragon does hatch for you, we'll prepare accordingly. Until then, will you try not to let it worry you? I swear I won't let any harm come to you."

"That's gallant," Breetuk said, smiling. "With an assurance such as that, I won't let it worry me. So Grintuk, why would you feel to say such a thing?"

Grintuk shook his head ruefully, vaguely answering, "Because I'm the guardian Dragon Rider, of course. What good would I be if I let the newest Rider or dragon be harmed while under my care?"

"Of course," Breetuk knowingly agreed. "That's very responsible of you. I wouldn't expect anything less. That also sounds like Varhog."

Grintuk unexpectedly added, "Perhaps it also has something to do with your smile," and Breetuk could see he regretted saying it once he had, but it was too late.

She raised her eyebrows, allowing the expression to widen in amusement. "My smile? Whatever do you mean?"

Grintuk looked away, shaking his head with a stubborn expression on his face. When he didn't answer for several moments, Breetuk felt mildly disappointed and also slightly worried she had behaved inappropriately, so she apologized, "I'm sorry if I spoke unbecomingly, Grintuk. You needn't answer."

"No," he quickly reassured. "You didn't. And I'm sorry to be rude. My mind was wandering for a moment. I only meant that I find your smile very pretty, along with the rest of you, and maybe that's another reason I wouldn't let any harm come to you. There. I was perfectly honest, though it may have been imprudent. I was thinking about how foolish we Riders seem to act the moment a pretty female shows up in front of us. My brother, Hanin the elf, had something of a similar experience last year when he took the dragon egg to the elves."

Grintuk paused, obviously considering something potentially embarrassing, judging by his expression, before hastily adding, "Anyway, I was thinking it might not be wise for us to be so isolated, since we appear to be starved for female attention."

Breetuk laughed, glad she hadn't offended him with her flirtatious manner. "It might actually be for the best, Grintuk. If you Riders were here on the mainland, you would have _many—_ most likely far more than you cared for—pretty and unattractive females hopefully following you about like loyal puppies. Not that there aren't other males who are decent and morally upright, but you Riders—at least those I've had the privilege of meeting—seem to take it to a whole new level. It's something a female can't help but notice and admire. It also must help that you all, including Willow and Arya, are so tall and strong and capable." She stopped suddenly. "I'm sorry. I'm not helping, am I?"

"Depends on which way you mean," Grintuk said wryly. "If I like hearing you praise me, then you're definitely helping. If I'm trying to avoid liking that, then it's not helping." They arrived at Grintuk's golden dragon, who turned a scrutinizing eye on Breetuk.

"He's very handsome," Breetuk said, complimenting the dragon in the way she dared not compliment his Rider. "What a stunning color. May I touch him? He's male, right?"

"Aye, and you may touch him if you like."

"Where's best?" she wondered.

"Probably on his snout. It's smoother."

Breetuk tentatively reached a hand out toward the dragon's snout, smiling as she gazed into his huge golden eyes. "You're magnificent," she whispered. "What's your name?"

 _Kuldr_ , a smooth, deep voice replied, and Breetuk jumped in surprise before laughing at herself.

"Sorry," she said. "I'm not used to that. Your voice is so deep. Or your mind. However you refer to it. 'Kuldr.' What does that mean?"

 _It means gold in the ancient language,_ the dragon informed her.

"How perfect," Breetuk said, removing her hand. "Thank you for letting me touch you, Kuldr. I consider it a great honor."

The dragon followed her hand, touching her again with his snout. _As do I. What is_ your _name?_

"Breetuk," she replied, surprised he continued to speak to her. She looked over at Grintuk, who was watching her intently.

 _Breetuk,_ the dragon repeated. _My sister wants to hatch for you. She appears to have made a good choice._

"You know that! Oh, I suppose you must have learned from Grintuk."

 _That, and I can sense her mind. She is most anxious to meet you. Will you long delay?_

"Uh, I'm not sure," Breetuk said, glancing again at Grintuk. "We were going to eat lunch—"

 _First hold her egg so she can emerge. She will want to eat as well. Grintuk prepared for that by saving meat from my most recent kill._

"Very well. I guess that settles that. I'm not inclined to argue with him," she admitted to Grintuk, laughing shakily as the dragon rumbled in amusement.

Grintuk still had the dragon egg, so he held it out to her.

Breetuk hesitated. "I can't believe this is happening. Don't you think it will cause problems with the other clans? That they might think we somehow planned it? It just doesn't seem fair for two Riders to come from the same family and clan."

"The dragons choose who they think will be best, Breetuk," Grintuk replied. "It doesn't matter which clan you're from. You could have been from Tintog, Kvihkut, Delvhtuk, any of them, and she would have made the same choice if she thought you the best match."

"Why would I be best?" she demanded. "What could I possibly have to offer?"

Grintuk smiled. "We may not know for years, Breetuk. Think of Willow. Could any of us have foreseen what would have come of her arrival on the Isle? Look how much good she has done for both of our races by marrying Varhog. And I'm sure we haven't seen the end of it, but we're not to mention that to the king, are we?"

Breetuk solemnly shook her head, taking a deep breath. "I suppose I'm as ready as I'll ever be. Wouldn't it be funny if she really didn't hatch for me? All this drama for nothing." She resolutely took the egg. "Hello, in there. It's me again. Breetuk."

She was answered by a loud squeak. Breetuk wasn't sure what she expected, but it wasn't to have the egg jump as forcefully as did as soon as it was in her hands. She knelt down so she wouldn't drop it, tears filling her eyes as the first crack split the shell. She _still_ couldn't believe this was happening.

"I feel so unworthy," Breetuk whispered.

 _That is why you are, Bree,_ her dragon said. _Her_ dragon. Breetuk incredulously shook her head, and the tears spilled down her cheeks. _Here I come. Do not help me._

Noisy screeching continued to issue forth from inside the egg as another fissure further opened the shell, followed quickly by a third. Soon there was a fragment completely surrounded by fractures, pushing outward under the feeble strength of a small head.

Breetuk gasped in wonder at her first sight of the dragon. Already she thought her beautiful. From what she could see, her coloring was just like that of the egg. Her head was deep purple with a bronze stripe running right down her snout. Her eyes were a shimmering bronze, with irises that were a slightly lighter though still dark shade of purple.

Breetuk felt the same wonder she thought she always saw on the faces of her many sisters whenever they first met a new life with whom they would be forever bonded. She watched in awe as the small creature pushed and stretched, soon breaking her miniature wings out of their confines. The dragon could now stand and extend her wings fully out, though they only spanned a few feet. Pieces of her shell fell off of Breetuk's lap as she stomped her feet. She stretched out her short neck, reaching her snout to Breetuk's right hand and nuzzling her palm.

Breetuk gasped again, jerking back at the sensation of their first touch. She was vaguely aware that Grintuk had made his way to her side and was supporting her with an arm behind her shoulders so she wouldn't collapse. Burning pain coursed through her arm, and Breetuk shook her hand as tingling, icy slivers snaked through her hand and up her arm, numbing all sensation as they spread. Abruptly, her mind was not hers alone, and though the dragon was so small, Breetuk felt the vast presence of her wise and ancient consciousness pressing against her own.

"Wow," Breetuk marveled, turning her hand from side to side so the sun would play off the glistening, silvery mark now adorning her palm. She flexed her fingers to encourage the return of any sensation.

 _Breetuk,_ the dragon said again, now able to see her Rider for the first time.

Breetuk held her hands together, and the dragon hopped aboard. She raised her dragon to her face and said, _Hello, small one. You're so beautiful. Is it possible to love someone you've only just met? I'm so honored and humbled you hatched for me. I'll always strive to be worthy._

 _You already are and will only become more so, Breetuk. May I call you Bree?_

 _Yes. And what should I call you? I can hardly think of an appropriate name with your exquisite coloring. How do you already know this language?_

 _The dragons know which eggs they will give to the Riders. After Eragon—Firesword, as your race calls him—extended the pact to all the races, we quickly identified a pattern and have followed it ever since. Starting with your brother, we hatched for an Urgal, then a dwarf, then a human, then an elf. I knew I would hatch for one of the Urgralgra and while I have waited my turn, I have learned the Urgralish tongue from Grintuk, as well as the other languages from the Eldunarí. My egg long rested in the cave wherein they dwell on the Isle, and in a cave on Vroengard for a century before that. Do you know of what I speak?_

 _Vaguely,_ Breetuk said. _I have so much to learn. We'll think of a name, my small friend. Grintuk will help me protect you. I'm fearful of meeting the king because he seems to hate dragons, but I don't know why. And I look so much like my mother and grandmother._

 _Herein lies your first essential role as a Dragon Rider, Bree,_ her dragon said. _I do not know why, but I know you must meet King Kulkarvek and that it will set in motion specific events that must come to pass. Be courageous. I can remain behind with Kuldr for safety's sake. Do not delay any more than needed. The sooner we can be away from here, the better._

Breetuk nodded her understanding before looking up at Grintuk.

"It's amazing, isn't it?" he said, and Breetuk now noticed the silvery mark on his palm as well. Why hadn't she seen that before?

"Yes, it was amazing. What's this called again? The mark?"

"In the ancient language it's simply called 'gedwёy ignasia,' which means shining palm," Grintuk said.

"Fitting," she replied, slowly repeating the phrase. "I'm feeling really overwhelmed. There's so much to learn."

"In time, Breetuk," Grintuk reassured. "I've been a Dragon Rider for six years and have barely scratched the surface of what there is to know and learn. It's daunting and thrilling. What did she say to you?"

"The most important thing she said is that my first essential role as a Dragon Rider is to meet the king and that it will set in motion certain events that must come to pass. She said not to delay and that we should leave as soon as possible."

"Interesting," Grintuk mused. "She must have learned something of this from the Eldunarí. What say you to eating, presenting you to Kulkarvek, and then leaving before nightfall if we can?"

"Fine with me," Breetuk said. "I'm surprised she can communicate so well after just hatching. Is it always this way?"

Grintuk had stood to retrieve food from Kuldr's saddlebags. He rejoined her on the ground and laid it out. There were many plant foods, along with some meat for the dragon. The small creature hopped off of Breetuk's hands and went straight to it. Before eating any, she spent a few minutes licking off the thin membrane that still clung to her back and legs after hatching. Then she began eating. Kuldr swung his long neck around, lowering his great head to inspect the new hatchling. She looked over at him, unconcerned, then continued eating.

Grintuk smiled at the dragon's intent focus then answered Breetuk, "If I understood correctly, Firesword had to teach Saphira the language he commonly used at the time. Those dragons were very cautious to extend their minds outside of their shells because of Galbatorix's constant deceptions. He tried everything he could think of to get them to hatch. Our eggs on the Isle know of their safety and which of them will hatch for which race, so they emerge from their hibernation enough to learn to communicate when the time comes for them to hatch. This makes the mental link with their new Rider more beneficial and comprehensible right from the start."

Breetuk nodded, choosing some bread and fruit from the selection before her. "This will take some getting used to," she commented about the lack of meat. "Meat is such a staple for the Urgralgra. I was so surprised to learn that Varhog rarely consumes it anymore. He once loved it."

"As did I," Grintuk said with a grin. "And I still do. We're the only Riders who occasionally eat meat to sustain our large bodies. I must more often even than Varhog—though he's stronger—because I'm taller and bigger. You needn't follow our examples unless you come to the same conclusion on your own during the course of your training. I noticed you observing those ants before I put myself in your line of sight, and I felt your concern that I might crush them. That's just the kind of observation we engage in, but on a much deeper, more mental and emotional level. It becomes impossible to ignore the value of every life once you've all but lived it through their tiny minds."

"Then it's good I like eating plants," Breetuk said. "I suppose I'll just have to eat far more than I'm currently accustomed to doing."

She stopped eating not long after, confessing, "I'm not extremely hungry. Nervous, I guess, which is interfering with my appetite."

"Well, I'm finished," Grintuk replied. "Shall we get our unpleasant task over with?"

"Yes," Breetuk said. "How will we leave?"

"On Kuldr. We'll ride together. Your dragon can sit between us. If you sit behind me, you'll be warmer and your hair won't blow in my face."

"What if the dragon had hatched for a male?"

"The riding arrangements would have been the same. Perhaps not as pleasant but, of necessity, the same nonetheless."

"What about your hair? It's also long," Breetuk observed. Grintuk's black hair hung in a straight column down the middle of his back.

He grinned. "I'll plait it. I can even tuck it into my shirt."

"I could do the same," Breetuk offered, "if it would be more comfortable for me to sit in front of you."

"It might be, but I think it will be safer for your dragon to sit between us, which will be easier to manage with you behind. You can lean against my back and our bodies will provide a shelter for her."

"Very well," Breetuk said. "She suggested we might leave her with Kuldr for safety."

"Kuldr's coming with us," Grintuk said. "If we need to leave quickly, he's our best bet. Neither of us could outrun the king, though we're both Kull. Despite his tremendous age, he's impossibly quick and has magical abilities. We don't know how strong they are, but if they're stronger than my own, I'll need Kuldr's help. I hope we won't face any conflict, but I want to be prepared. There's also the possibility that Kulkarvek would be insulted we left the new dragon behind because we feared for her safety in his presence. It's no secret how he feels about dragons, but he still might like us to pretend we don't know. I might need to communicate with you mentally, as your dragon has done. May I now touch your mind so you won't be shocked if I suddenly have to warn you?"

"Yes," Breetuk said, and she felt his mind reaching out to hers. She immediately liked the tone, hoping just as quickly that he hadn't sensed that emotion.

Tapping his forehead with one finger, Grintuk simply said, _This is what I sound like up here_. Then he was gone. "Easy enough. You'll surely recognize me again. I daresay there won't be many trying to reach you mentally."

Grintuk stood. Breetuk scooped up her dragon—who was licking her paws after her tasty meal—and also arose, walking beside Grintuk as he led her toward Kulkarvek's dwelling.


	12. Presenting and Parting

12\. Presenting and Parting

Grintuk had always wondered why King Kulkarvek insisted on living over the barrows, where bones of dead creatures had been piled for countless years. It seemed so morbid, but the king must have liked it for some reason. Maybe he was mad because he was haunted by the pain and regret of so many lost lives, many of which must have been ended for sport and in cruelty.

It might also have been because it provided him with an unavoidable solitude. No one else ever willingly ventured into the barrows. It was an eerie, sinister place, and Grintuk hated having to go there now. He had only been once before, when Kuldr had first hatched for him.

The first egg that had hatched for the Urgralgra was delivered by Nar Garzhvog, war chief of the Bolvek clan. He had received it from Arya, then queen of the elves, who had obtained the egg from Firesword. But she hadn't spoken Urgralish and had been occupied with assignments from the high queen of Alagaёsia, so she had entrusted the egg into Garzhvog's care, since he had proven himself trustworthy during the war and was the one Firesword approached with the offer to extend the Dragon Rider pact.

That egg had hatched for Varhog. At age seventeen, Grintuk had also been present at that Choosing Ceremony, and he remembered Garzhvog taking Varhog before the king, only to quickly emerge and depart for their village.

Six years ago, Varhog hadn't returned to deliver the next egg, but Murtagh, once again accompanied by Nar Garzhvog, who had served as an interpreter. Kuldr had hatched, and Garzhvog had taken Grintuk to present him to King Kulkarvek. Grintuk then understood why Varhog had come out of the barrows so swiftly. The king had been cold and cruel and especially malicious about the new dragon, though he also seemed to have an unexplained bitterness toward Nar Garzhvog.

At the time, Grintuk thought it had something to do with clan rivalry and that the king somehow felt threatened by the war chief, but he now saw that it might have been more. He had learned in Varhog's village just before coming this time that Nar Garzhvog had recently taken Varhog's widowed mother as his second mate, and Grintuk wondered if there was a past connection between Myrintuk and Garzhvog to explain the king's hostility. Grintuk decided to ask Breetuk about it after this audience with the king.

They passed a young Urgal present for the Choosing Ceremony, and Grintuk stopped, asking the ram to spread the news to the other youth that the dragon egg had hatched and they could now depart back to their native tribe lands. The ram agreed, casting a respectful, slightly envious glance at Breetuk as he departed.

As they began walking into the barrows, skirting piles of old bones covered by weed-tangled heaps of earth, Grintuk muttered, "Here we go. This place isn't pleasant. I hope we can leave quickly."

Breetuk stayed close by his side, clutching her dragon to her chest. There was a stone structure ahead, located centrally within the barrows over a natural depression in the ground, wherein dwelt the king. Grintuk knew its position was necessary, for the crumbling bone piles would not have supported the weight of such a building. The large dwelling was barren and cold, just like everything about the king.

 _I cannot fit through there now,_ Kuldr said when they reached the entrance to the king's stronghold, including Breetuk in his mental message.

"Then you must wait here," Grintuk said, speaking aloud for Breetuk's benefit. "Are you ready, Breetuk?"

"Yes," she firmly replied. "Let's get this over with."

-:-:-

Grintuk pushed the stone doors inward and stepped through. Breetuk began to follow, but she stopped on the threshold to take in her surroundings and allow her eyes to adjust to the dim interior light.

The stronghold consisted chiefly of one enormous, open room. At the back there was a gigantic stone throne, whereupon the king sat, his huge head resting in a huge hand as he leaned his elbow against one armrest. Breetuk saw a couple of hallways leading off the back of the chamber, but nothing else. It was completely empty, devoid of any furniture except the throne. The only macabre décor were the dozens of human heads impaled on sharp spikes jutting from the walls around the perimeter of the room.

Breetuk was horrified. Then she recognized Urgal heads among them, and tears filled her eyes, for they belonged to the five rams from her village who had been killed during the winter, all of whom had been friends. Their expressions were terrifying, and though Breetuk immediately looked away, squeezing her eyes shut, the haunted faces remained behind her eyelids.

Grintuk noticed. _Are you well, Breetuk?_

She guessed he spoke mentally so the king wouldn't hear. Trying to remember what it felt like to converse with her dragon, Breetuk replied, _Those heads. I knew those rams. I know their families. I can't believe he keeps them like trophies! What is_ wrong _with my grandfather! What a ghastly way to live!_

Grintuk gave her a sad look but said no more.

Breetuk had remained in the entryway during this exchange, but as soon as she followed Grintuk into the room and the doors boomed shut behind them, the voice of the king reached them.

"Who goes there?" he roared in irritation.

"It is I, Grintuk, the Dragon Rider."

"What are you doing in here, boy?" Kulkarvek bellowed.

"The dragon has hatched, Your Majesty, and I have come to present the new Rider."

"So soon?" the king said in a less frightening volume. "Some good news. Come forward so I can fulfill my unwelcome duty, then begone with you."

The two swiftly approached the throne, and the king was arrogantly gazing off to the side, not acknowledging his guests with the slightest respect. Nor did he look over when he said, "So who are you, then? Name yourself."

Breetuk hoped he would continue looking away. That would make this so much easier. She decided to provide as little information as possible with every answer. To the king's command she simply replied, "Breetuk."

"Of the Delvhtuk clan?" Kulkarvek demanded.

"No, Your Majesty. Of the Bolvek clan," Breetuk said.

The longer answer seemed to get the king's attention. He blinked and slowly, ever so slowly, looked over at Breetuk, freezing when his eyes fell upon her, his face a mask of stunned disbelief.

"Myrintuk?" he breathed, the cruel, insane glow leaving his eyes for the briefest of moments. In that time, Breetuk clearly saw that Kulkarvek had loved her grandmother on at least some level. But the look of wonder and hope quickly left, replaced once again by cold hostility. "What trickery is this?" he said in a deadly voice so much more disconcerting than his deafening roars. "Who are you?"

"I am Breetuk of the Bolvek clan," Breetuk repeated, attempting to keep her face smooth to hide her growing fear.

"Who is your mother?" Kulkarvek insisted.

"Myrintuk," she said quietly. "Your daughter."

"I have no daughter!" the king bellowed, rising suddenly. Breetuk flinched, unaccustomed to someone being over two feet taller than she. "Why have you come here? To torment me? To remind me of past sorrow?"

"No, Your Majesty," Breetuk replied, still unwavering. Grintuk had tensed beside her, shifting until he was slightly in front of her.

The alarming rage ended as abruptly as it began, and the king slouched back into his throne. "Then why?" he groaned.

"The dragon hatched for me, Your Majesty. That's why."

"Dragon . . ." the king absently muttered. "Dragon. . . . A dragon took everything from me. Not once, but twice. Now there are Dragon Riders among the Urgralgra. I thought it would never be. How can it be?" He snapped out of his reverie. "Isn't the first Urgal Dragon Rider also from the Bolvek clan?" he asked Breetuk.

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"A ram, wasn't he? Do you know him?"

"Yes, Your Majesty. He's famous. We all know of him."

"Why hasn't he returned here to honor his king?"

"I do not know," Breetuk smoothly lied. "I'm not important enough to be aware of his affairs."

"What about you, boy?" the king demanded of Grintuk. "Surely you have interacted with him in the six years since you were chosen."

"Yes, Your Majesty," Grintuk said. "He has been most occupied on the Isle and completely unable to return to Anghelm."

"Is that so? Well, as much as I hate dragons, I will not have the Dragon Riders of the Urgralgra cowering fearfully before their own king. I demand that you all return next year, but not before then. Keep your dragons far away, or I might see fit to march out and kill them all, just as I attempted last winter. Too close they were in the human village. Disgusting humans. There will never be a reason to get along with them. I cannot abide these new conditions in the land. First, they try to change our very natures and customs that are as defining to our race as our horns. Then they involve us in a pact with the dragons, all without my consent. The two worst possible scenarios. They all deserve to be wiped off the face of the land.

"I almost killed that puny human scum who appeared on my doorstep six years ago for his audacity at showing up here with his _red_ dragon. Like _him._ Like the one who took everything from me, though _his_ dragon was black. The humans will never understand the Urgralgra. They have never tried. And it has led only to death and destruction all the days of my accursedly long life. _He_ wanted to kill us all. He tried once. You know the story of course. And I appointed Nar Tulkhqa to lead the clans to our greatest victory at Stavarosk. I will lead our people once again, and we will soon remove the despicable blight of humans from the land."

Grintuk must have decided it would do no good to attempt to reason with him. "Yes, Your Majesty. We will leave you in peace and return next year for a brief visit. Is this pleasing to you?"

"Not pleasing. Nothing is pleasing to me, nor does anything bring me peace. But this is what I require. Now begone!" He kept his eyes on Breetuk as she turned to go, suddenly asking, "Myrintuk is your mother?"

Breetuk turned to look back at him. "Yes, Your Majesty."

"And your sire?"

"He's dead, Your Majesty."

"Do you have siblings?"

"Yes. Seven."

"Nieces and nephews?" he pressed.

"Sixteen, Your Majesty. And two on the way." His face was unreadable as he processed this. He was learning for the first time that he had eight grandchildren and sixteen great grandchildren.

"Leave me," he groaned again, his agony and exhaustion crippling.

Breetuk turned and left without another word, Grintuk trailing protectively behind.

When they were outside, Grintuk spoke nary a word as he helped her climb onto Kuldr. He followed her up, taking his seat in front of her and instructing, "Your legs go here so I can strap them in. Then you can put your arms around my waist. You'll get used to this, but I don't want you to be afraid."

Once Grintuk had finished securing her legs in the saddle straps, Breetuk circled her arms around his waist. Her dragon curled up into a small mound right between them, and Breetuk made sure her knees touched the back of Grintuk's thighs so there wasn't space for her to fall. The dragon seemed secure enough.

Grintuk asked, "Are you ready?"

"Yes," Breetuk said.

Kuldr leaped upward, and Breetuk tightened her arms. She had flown with Varhog before, but he had been behind her and had wrapped his arms around her to help her feel secure. She pushed her face into Grintuk's back and closed her eyes. With the dragon between them Breetuk felt unsteady, and she was shaken from the confrontation with the king. He was so tortured. His last expression had been heartbreaking, so full of pain and weariness.

She felt Grintuk's voice rumble deep inside him but only barely heard his words. "Breetuk, can I speak to your mind? We won't hear each other this way." She nodded her face in his back. _How are you?_ his mental voice then said. _That was intense._

She focused on his mind. _Well enough. Thank you, Grintuk. I can't believe he's my grandfather._

 _Aye. It's unbelievable. He seemed to feel the same way at the end when he realized he had a family he never knew about. I'm most curious to hear the story, but if you don't object to sharing it, it can wait until we're on our way. Do you have things we need to retrieve back at your camp?_

 _A few things,_ she said. _Nothing I can't live without._

He seemed amused. _We can get them. Then I had best visit my family. I arrived late last night and my mother threatened to have my horns if I tried to get away without a visit, though they understand the danger with the king. My father was forced to lead the band that attacked Carvahall last winter. I'm anxious to put as much distance_ _as we can_ _between us and Kulkarvek._

 _Where did you raise Kuldr, Grintuk? Surely not here._

 _It was here,_ he confirmed. _My family lives far from the barrows. Murtagh stayed on until Kuldr could fly with me to the Isle, then we left. We won't do that with you. After I've had a chance to discuss this matter with the other Riders, I think we might all return to the Isle, especially after Kulkarvek's threat. He said some things they'll find most interesting. And mysterious. We have some detective work to do to get to the bottom of the king's hatred. He will one day learn of Willow, and I'm terrified to think of what might happen then. I don't know if it would be better for him to hear it indirectly or straight from one of us. His feelings towards humans were very troubling indeed. I fear our race will never really move toward peaceful coexistence with the humans while Kulkarvek is king._

 _So it seems,_ Breetuk sadly agreed. She was also afraid of what might happen if and when her grandfather learned that one of his grandsons had married a human and had children with her. She remembered how Garzhvog had reacted and knew the king would be so much worse, but she tried to reassure herself that Varhog would never let anything happen to Willow and the babies.

They quickly arrived at the outskirts of the city, which is where the youth had camped. Breetuk could see they were already departing in groups. It must have been disappointing to come all this way only to have the dragon hatch on the first day. Some of the clans would need to travel for weeks to get back to their tribe lands. Those who were near enough saw Kuldr and stopped to wait for him to land. Breetuk wondered if they maybe wanted to meet the new dragon and see who she had chosen.

Grintuk helped her unstrap her legs and dismount. Breetuk felt so clumsy, but he seemed so graceful. And he also noticed her awkwardness.

"You'll get used to it," he encouraged. "Soon this will be as easy as breathing." She smiled gratefully, holding her sleeping dragon in her arms. When Breetuk was on the ground, Nayvek, her best friend from the Bolvek tribe, approached.

"Bree!" Nayvek cried. "The dragon hatched for you? There must be something in your family's blood. The dragons can smell it." She laughed, and Breetuk was grateful she didn't seem resentful. None of the youth really thought the dragon would hatch for them. Most of them came on the trip just for the fun of traveling with their friends for a few weeks.

"I couldn't believe it, Nayvek," Breetuk said. "I really didn't think she would."

"None of us do, Bree," Nayvek dismissed.

"Did any of the other clans' youth seem upset?" Breetuk worried.

"Not that I could tell. Why would they, Bree? Almost no one knows it hatched for you or that you're from the Bolvek clan and have an older brother who's a Rider. How would they? I was one of the few close enough to you this morning to overhear what you said to the Rider after you held the egg, and it was confusing enough. Besides, they know the dragons choose for reasons no one seems to understand. You can't help it if your brother was also chosen. But lucky for you. You get to ride back home with _him_ while we have to walk." Nayvek laughed.

Breetuk glanced over at Grintuk, who smiled at Nayvek's comment. She and Nayvek had chatted—as young, single girls will do—about how strong and handsome they thought him. Why wouldn't they? He was something of a celebrity, just as Varhog had been. But Varhog now had a mate and cubs, so the single females didn't pine over him anymore, and Breetuk never had of course, since he was her brother. But Grintuk was a different story, even if he didn't know it. If there was one thing the young female Urgralgra hoped for as longingly as having a dragon hatch for them, it was to win the fancy of the Dragon Rider.

"Yes, lucky for me," she agreed loudly enough that Grintuk was sure to hear. "Although I have to sit behind him and it feels like I'm going to fall off back there."

Nayvek giggled. "At least you get to put your arms around him. That has to be nice."

Breetuk couldn't smother her own giggle, thought she didn't want to seem immature in front of Grintuk. "It _was_ nice. I imagine the other way around would be nice too. Then if I fell asleep, I'd be less likely to fall off."

"It would be very unlikely indeed, wouldn't it, with _his_ arms around you?" Nayvek helpfully played along.

Breetuk laughed. "Come on, Nayvi. Let's go get my things. Grintuk needs to visit his family."

"And you get to go _with_ him? Already meeting his family?" Nayvek cast a longing glance in Grintuk's direction, though Breetuk knew she was exaggerating on purpose. Nayvek loved Pultog and had missed him desperately all winter, spring, and summer. "Bree, I'm trying not to be jealous but seriously, the dragon _and_ the Rider? That's just too much good for one girl."

"I don't know what you're talking about, Nayvek," Breetuk protested.

"Of course you do!" Nayvek exclaimed. "We all noticed how he spent so much time with you this morning. All of the rest of us just stammered and looked like fools. You're so confident around him because your brother is a Dragon Rider. And when _he_ finally showed up after ten years and was in love with a human, we all knew Grintuk was our last chance for fame and fortune with a Dragon Rider." She laughed teasingly.

"I know you miss, Pul, Nayvi," Breetuk consoled, recognizing from the underlying sadness in her friend's face that she was thinking about her beau. "But it's still silly to imply I have the Dragon Rider. I just met him."

"Well, Miss Modesty, let me help you out a little. He _likes_ you. And why wouldn't he? You're the only female Kull here and one of the relatively few in all the Urgralgra. You're the prettiest female in our whole tribe, along with your mother and sisters. And you're amazing. It's no wonder he already likes you! If he didn't, he'd be hearing a piece of my mind."

"I think he already _is,_ Nayvek," Breetuk said with a laugh. "You _do_ realize how awkward this is going to make my time for the next couple of days?"

"Of course!" Nayvek cried. "Why else am I doing it? That's another thing! You get to spend all this time flying with him as you travel back home then off to the Isle. He'll come to see that you're more than just a pretty face or a tall female."

"Please, Nayvi," Breetuk implored. "Enough!"

Nayvek laughed. "I'm going to miss you, Bree! Will you promise to come visit more often than Varhog did? I want to see your cubs before they're ten!"

"Nayvi, you're impossible!" Breetuk cried in exasperation, glancing back at Grintuk, who was close enough to overhear. His face had an unmistakable look of hopeful longing on it, which he quickly cleared when she looked at him, but not before Nayvek saw and tried to seize onto it with renewed vigor.

Breetuk clapped her hand over her friend's mouth. "Seriously, Nayvek. Enough. If Pultog gets to come home soon, like my father thought, you'll have your own mate. That's why she didn't hatch for you. You're going to have a cub of your own within the next year, I guarantee it."

Nayvek's face clouded. "I miss him, Bree. I hope he _can_ come home soon. If he does, _I'm_ asking _him_ to be my mate if those aren't the first words out of his mouth." She laughed halfheartedly. "Then at least I wouldn't be lonely with you gone. But you need to be there for my wedding!"

"I'll put in a good word for Pultog with the war chief," Breetuk suggested as they reached her things. "Kind of nice that he's my father now."

Since Breetuk was still holding her dragon, Nayvek stuffed her neatly folded clothes and sleeping mat into her pack. As she did, she said, "Yes, that's true. And you're much bolder than Yvenna, so you actually just might. She never would have dared suggest anything to him. Has Nar Garzhvog really hinted that Pul might get to come home soon?"

"He has. There hasn't been any trouble in Carvahall since the Dragon Riders left earlier this year, and some of the other single rams are anxious for an adventure."

Grintuk approached and offered, "May I get that for you, Breetuk? I know you're perfectly capable, but at least let me feel like I'm being useful."

"If it helps you feel useful," Breetuk teased, handing him the pack and smiling. Might as well since he had confessed to liking it.

"Off to a good start," Nayvek approved. "Well, let me see your dragon! She's so tiny! And _so_ beautiful. Oh my goodness! Isn't that color amazing? Just like the coloring on the egg. Have you thought of a name yet?"

"No, I've barely had the time to process anything. We had to go see the king. He's terrifying, Nayvi. He's clearly insane and so, so angry, but he also seemed broken and weary. Just so exhausted, like he wanted nothing more than to die. He even said, 'accursedly long life,' as if he was cursed to endure such a long and miserable existence. I kind of feel bad for him, but I'm so glad we got out of there alive. I need some name ideas, though I think the choice is ultimately hers."

"Hmm," Nayvek mused. "Doesn't she kind of look like a midnight sky? Deep purple, so deep it's almost black. And these shimmering bronze streaks could be shooting stars. Midnight sky? Stareye? Shooting star? Starfire? Starstreak? Bronzefire? Shimmer? Indigo?"

Breetuk laughed. "Wow, Nayvi! You're good at this. You should be a professional dragon-namer. What do you think, Grintuk?"

He raised his eyebrows in surprise. "You would ask _my_ opinion? The Rider who named his golden dragon 'Gold'? I'm afraid I'm not very creative, but since you asked and sincerely seem to want to know, I would go with 'Midnight' if it were me."

"Midnight," Breetuk repeated, immediately liking it but not wanting to seem overly eager with Nayvek standing right there, since she knew it would lead to more embarrassing ribbing. "Let me ask her."

Her dragon was awake again, sensing she was being talked about. _Hello, little friend,_ Breetuk greeted her. _My friend here is trying to help me find a name for you. Did you hear all of her suggestions?_

 _Yes, Bree, I did,_ her dragon replied.

 _Did you like any of them?_ Breetuk asked.

 _I liked the other Rider's suggestion best. Midnight. As do you, Bree. Because you like_ him. The baby dragon's sound of amusement was so tiny compared to Kuldr's deep rumble. A small tremor shivered through her body, which would have worried Breetuk had she not felt the humor through their mental link.

 _Be that as it may, that's not the only reason I like the name,_ Breetuk said, not denying the claim. It was going to take some getting used to having someone always sharing her thoughts and feelings. _Well, may I name you Midnight?_

 _I would be very pleased if you did,_ Midnight replied.

 _Midnight,_ Breetuk tried it out. _Midnight, it's nice to meet you. We'll be able to fly in the midnight sky and blend right in, won't we?_

 _Yes, Bree,_ Midnight agreed. _I like my name. Thank you for the suggestion._

 _You're welcome. Sorry to interrupt your nap. We'll be flying again soon enough, though it might not be for long before we stop to visit Grintuk's family. Do you think it's painfully obvious I like him?_

 _Not painfully, Bree,_ Midnight assured her with another tremble of amusement. _Though as your friend observed, it is fairly obvious the way he feels._

 _Now you're making me nervous!_ Breetuk worried. _How am I to act?_

 _As yourself, Bree,_ Midnight advised. _And it might be comely right now to remember that they are both standing there, staring at you expectantly._

Breetuk jumped and apologized, "Um, sorry, Nayvi. Grintuk." She glanced up at him then down again. "She decided to be called Midnight. She likes it too, so thanks for the idea, I suppose."

"My pleasure," Grintuk said. "That was quite a long discussion to decide on her name."

"I had to make sure she didn't like any of the others better," Breetuk defended, but Nayvek was looking at her with a knowing grin. "Could you two hear?" Breetuk wondered in concern.

Nayvi laughed as Breetuk flushed. "No, Bree. At least I couldn't," her friend promised.

So Breetuk looked up at Grintuk, who shook his head.

"But your face revealed a lot," Nayvek mercilessly continued. "Good thing it was facing down toward me. Don't worry, my friend," she reassured, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper that Grintuk could still clearly hear, "he doesn't have a clue."

"Nayvi! I'll get you back somehow!" Breetuk cried. "We had best be going, Grintuk, before this nonsense carries on any longer."

"I'm quite enjoying the nonsense," he admitted. "I had my fair share on the Isle these past many months though of a _much_ different nature. Two merry dwarves, one young human boy, and two dozen or so somber elves. _This_ kind of nonsense was completely absent. If not for my older sisters, I might be completely oblivious that it even exists, but as it is, I'm finding I dearly missed it."

Breetuk looked at Nayvi. It was a mistake. "Yes, Bree, I do believe you're right. He's getting handsomer by the minute. Don't tell Pultog I said that." She giggled, and Breetuk raised her eyebrows in disbelief, glaring at her friend and shaking her head slightly.

"Oh, all right!" Nayvek relented. "I'll stop! Let me say goodbye, Bree. If you all fly off before we make it back home, then take care of yourself, my friend. I'll miss you so much, but if things work out with Pul, then I won't be too lonely. Maybe by the time you come back, I really will have a cub. That would be fun. Is there any way to stay in touch? You'll be so far away!"

Grintuk answered, "Breetuk will learn how to use magic. There's something called scrying, which involves casting a spell to make her face appear in a mirror or on the surface of still water. If you have something like that in your hut, she could reach you."

"Really!" Nayvek cried. "How amazing! Well, learn how to do it and contact me sometimes, Bree!"

"I will," Breetuk promised. "As soon as I can."

"If you don't get around to it anytime soon, just have your future mate here do it for you. I'm sure _he_ would be willing to help you out. There's probably not anything he wouldn't be willing to do for you."

Breetuk put her hand over her mouth as it opened wide in profound mortification, unable to keep her eyes from traveling slowly to Grintuk as blood rushed to her cheeks. He was grinning in patient amusement. Then Breetuk started laughing against her will, trying to diffuse the total humiliation she felt.

"Nayvek," she gasped when she could. "So help me! It's a good thing I'm leaving. I'll miss you, Nayvi. Thank you for always making me laugh, even if it was so often in painful embarrassment. I love you."

"I love you too, Bree. Look. The others are getting so impatient. I'll tell them all about it!"

"I'm sure you will," Breetuk muttered as they gave each other a tight embrace. "Goodbye."

"Goodbye, _Grintuk_ ," Nayvek said with a teasing smile. Grintuk inclined his head and returned the smile. "Farewell, Breetuk!" her friend called as she turned and ran off to join the group of youth from the Bolvek clan. "Hopefully I'll see you in a couple of weeks. If only we could all run as fast as you!"

* * *

 **A/N:** Some of you might be thinking, "Oh no! Not another romance! Especially right after she finally gives us some meat on the bad guy and final conflict!" Others might be thinking, "Yay! Another romance. I _love_ Breetuk and Grintuk and can't wait to read more of this nonsense and fluff." And yet many others probably fall somewhere in between. We have arrived at another of those moments in the story where I allowed the hopeless romantic in me to get carried away and run wild with yet another love story. Writing this story was absolutely delightful for me since I was in control, to a large extent, of how much fluff and romance I put into it. But I have grown a bit in the time since I first wrote this, learning from feedback and constructive criticism, so I am hopefully at a more mature place as a writer (I know, an entire _year_ after beginning ;).

Anyway, all of that really just means that where there were once several chapters following this one that focused exclusively on Breetuk and Grintuk's sudden romance, I have condensed/summarized 15,849 words or three chapters into a short chapter of 2,981 words. It will seem very rushed, which was intentional. All of the events I mention in passing are explained in greater detail in those three full-length chapters. This was out of respect for those readers who are merely tolerating the romance but really just want to finish at this point and see what happens with Kulkarvek (insert my husband—love you, honey!)

But with the second aforementioned group in mind, I haven't completely done away with those three chapters. They are now found over on livejournal (autumn6435 . livejournal . com) as _Part 4, Overcoming Awkwardness and Accident_ and _Part 4, Run and A New Love._ The two chapters comprising that second entry do not occur chronologically but are separated by three chapters that are found here in this story listing.

To spare other readers the chore of scrolling past 15,000 words, I have tagged these entries as "Containing Explicit Adult Content," but I want to reassure you that the true rating of those scenes never exceeds Mature, which means that they don't actually contain explicit sexual detail. On livejournal, if an entry has that tag, all that will show of it to visitors is the title, along with a warning that says, "You are about to view content that may only be appropriate for adults." You then have to click on that and confirm that you actually do want to read that entry. I like that it has this safeguard, and I've also exploited it to reduce that darn scrolling. Sorry to confuse those of you who have no clue what I'm talking about. Thanks as always for reading! I hope my revisions improve the overall pacing and flow of the story, especially as we near the end. ~Autumn :)


	13. Overcoming Awkwardness

13\. Overcoming Awkwardness

Breetuk watched them for as long as possible to delay the moment when she would have to face Grintuk, breathing deeply to keep herself from hyperventilating. What was Nayvek thinking! Breetuk felt utterly awkward.

Midnight had hopped to her shoulder so since her hands were free, Breetuk brought them both to her face and rubbed her cheeks, trying to clear the blush and compose herself. She knew Grintuk was watching her and that she couldn't avoid him forever, but she also couldn't look at him just yet. With her eyes straight ahead, she turned and walked past him toward Kuldr.

Grintuk kept stride with her without any difficulty, and when they reached the dragon, he put her things in some of the saddlebags. Before helping her up, he gently touched her arm and said, "Breetuk. I'm sorry you feel so awkward. I can tell by how you're acting. We can carry on like this, pretending all of that didn't happen, or we can acknowledge it and move on as we were before. Or I'm willing to admit to the truth of your friend's observations, and maybe we can even skip past the next awkward phase. I'm not trying to suggest you need to do the same, especially if she was only teasing you, but for my part, I see no reason to deny it. I _do_ like you, Breetuk. I'm anticipating getting to know you better. I would welcome the opportunity to be your mate if things naturally led to that over the course of our relationship. All day I've been trying to talk myself out of wanting to pursue something of that nature with you, but we'll so often be thrown together, I think I was kidding myself. Maybe this is the very reason the dragons have been hatching for females. Maybe they know how much we male Riders need you. We can't be our best without you. There. I was honest again, though it may have been too bold. At least you know how I feel. I won't press the issue, and I'll endeavor never to make you uncomfortable. Fair enough?"

"Fair enough," Breetuk allowed with a smile. "I can be honest too, you know. I have been all day. You Riders are amazing. I admired you the moment I saw how much like Varhog you are because he's my hero. I'm honored I'll have the opportunity to learn from you. Someday I hope to be such an admirable example as well. Today has been a day of overwhelming honors. To know that the famed Dragon Rider Grintuk finds himself fancying unassuming little Breetuk of the Bolvek clan is very humbling. Well, I guess I'm not really little, but you know what I meant. It's as great an honor as having Midnight hatch for me. I wouldn't object if our relationship—if it can be called that already—progressed in the way Nayvek insinuated it might. And it's true I think you're very handsome, though I wouldn't have dared admit it before. She read my face perfectly when she said I thought you handsomer by the minute after your endearing comment about your sisters and our nonsense. There," she echoed him. "It _does_ feel better to get that out in the open. Are you sure I'm not too young for you?"

Grintuk shook his head in amusement. "Age discrepancies go part and parcel with relationships between Riders. Ours would be the least of any of them, save Murtagh and Lady Nightstalker, though she's not a Rider. Arya is over eighty years older than Firesword. Varhog is ten years older than Willow. Hanin is fifty years older than Maehrí—"

"So Hanin and Maehrí _did_ get married?" Breetuk confirmed, laughing. "You didn't specify earlier, which made me wonder. I see your point. You're now twenty-eight?" He nodded. "Nine years older seems like nothing when you consider some of those other differences. What will Varhog think?"

"I hope he looks on the idea favorably," Grintuk admitted ruefully. "He can subdue me in hand-to-hand combat, so if he doesn't, I might lose a horn." He paused and looked at the sky. "Well, the evening grows late. Shall we make our way to my family? There will most likely be food."

"Sounds lovely," Breetuk agreed, allowing him to help her up.

So they made their way to his parent's home, conversing all the while. His family had prepared a large feast and took to Breetuk as readily as Grintuk had. The two Riders decided to spend the night with them, departing the next morning.

They stopped that afternoon in Carvahall, informing the Urgal warriors and Roran of what had transpired in Anghelm, and again choosing to spend the night rather than continuing their journey at a late hour.

-:-:-

By late the next afternoon, they had arrived in Daret, where Tomath was eagerly awaiting Grintuk so he could introduce the Kull Rider to his family. After spending several hours there, Breetuk and Grintuk made the short flight the rest of the way to her village. Their leisurely journey had been the perfect opportunity to continue getting to know one another, and by the time Grintuk laid a sleeping Breetuk in her bed that night, he knew he loved her.

When he brought Midnight in to sleep next to Breetuk, the dragon informed Grintuk that Breetuk was dreaming of him and that his presence was comforting, so instead of sleeping in the bed Myrintuk had offered, Grintuk simply lay on her floor.

Grintuk confessed his feelings the following morning, after some pointed prodding from Breetuk, and she teasingly returned his affection with a careless kiss on the lips, which immediately led to an unintentional intimate encounter, much to Breetuk's dismay.

After many comforting and compassionate words from Garzhvog and Varhog, one after the other, the regretful couple decided to move forward in their relationship toward marriage, planning their wedding for two weeks from that time when Nayvek would be home and able to marry on the same day.

They left Myrintuk's hut after breakfast to call the other Riders together, also informing Pultog that he could expect Nayvek home within a couple of weeks and that, in the meantime, he should begin preparing for a double wedding.

The two Kull Dragon Riders raced to Firesword's hut, and Grintuk was shocked to discover that Breetuk was a faster runner than he.

She teased him about it, and Grintuk grabbed her in an inescapable hold. "Might be faster, but I'm _confident_ you're not stronger. Now try to get away," he challenged.

"Why would I want to?" Breetuk quipped. "I like it right here. Seems I'm more like Willow than I thought, though she couldn't outdistance Varhog. Quick enough to get away and smart enough to let myself get caught when I want." She smiled, turning her face toward his and relaxing in his arms.

Grintuk quickly released her. "You females," he said in amusement. "I've been away too long. You know exactly how to push our buttons."

"Buttons?" Breetuk repeated in mock naiveté. "You'll have to show me where they are. I know where _one_ is, that's for sure."

Though Grintuk had released her, she hadn't moved away, and she raised one finger to push on his lips, as if pressing a button. "Right here," she teased, and he smiled. "But I'm not sure about the others. Is one here?" She pushed on his nose. "Nope, didn't seem to have an effect. How about here?" She pushed on the area over his navel, and he flinched away.

"Are you ticklish?" Breetuk cried in delight. "Well, I'd better not take advantage of that one. Requires close quarters, where I'm sure to get trapped and have the attack turned against me. For I too am ticklish." She pursed her lips. "Probably shouldn't have mentioned that," she thoughtfully finished.

Grintuk trapped her in his arms again, pressing his lips right to her forehead, which is where they naturally reached. "I love you, Bree," he said. "Thank you for being you. For teasing me and making me laugh. Why do Urgralgra rams always feel the need to be so serious all the time?"

"Good question. It really seems to be the Dragon Rider Urgralgra rams. And maybe the war chiefs. Those my age are as silly as they come. Were you never foolish in your youth, oh wise one?"

"Never," he said with mock sternness.

"That's a relief," Breetuk said. "I couldn't go off and marry the first prankster I came across. He would have never found me funny and then where would we be?"

"I'd be sad, that's for sure."

"I love you too, Grintuk." She smiled, cocking her head to one side. "I like the way it feels to say that. 'I love you.'"

"I like the way it feels to _hear_ it," he said. "That was the first time you said it."

"So it was. Here, let me catch up. I love you, Grintuk. I love you. There, I think that did it. Although my actions this morning might have spoken slightly louder than my words."

Grintuk smiled affectionately, suggesting, "Should we do what we came here to do?"

"Yes," Breetuk said. "Go ahead."

As they went to the door, Grintuk warned, "They all have very keen hearing. There's a good chance they heard everything we just said. Does that trouble you?" He knocked.

"I guess not. If they did, there's nothing we can do about it now."

Eragon answered with a telling smile on his face.

"I guess you _did_ hear," Breetuk said, unconcerned.

"Aye," Eragon agreed. "Hanin found it quite amusing. He's glad he's not the only Rider who fell for the pretty new female. The talk of this morning was surprising."

"I kissed him," Breetuk explained, which seemed to make sense to him. "By accident. Well, I kissed him on purpose but without thinking about what would happen next, since I see you all do it so often. We couldn't help what followed. It was awful for about an hour. Garzhvog and Varhog helped us through it."

Eragon invited them in, and they entered the front room. Arya, Hanin, and Maehrí were all sitting on the sofa.

"So when's the big day?" Eragon asked.

"Whenever the other youth arrive home," Breetuk said. "My best friend, Nayvek, is going to be getting married too, and she'd kill me if I did before her when I only just met Grintuk at the Ceremony. She actually predicted this would happen. It must have been painfully obvious right from the beginning, and she's like that. Very bold. Unafraid to say whatever's on her mind."

"Sounds like Willow," Hanin said with a grin.

"Exactly," Breetuk agreed. "Bless them. Anyway, when Grintuk took me before King Kulkarvek, he said some very interesting things about dragons."

"We want all of the Riders to come to Myrintuk's hut so we can tell you together," Grintuk continued. "We think we need to discuss leaving Alagaёsia for a time. Kulkarvek seems on the brink of marching to war with all of our dragons in the land."

"I'm glad you learned more," Eragon said. "I was hoping we might begin to unravel Kulkarvek's mystery. We'll come back with you right now. Our dragons told us what Kuldr shared about Breetuk becoming the newest Rider, so we were waiting to be summoned. Shall we, my love?" He finished by addressing Arya, who had been feeding Brom and was now readying him for the walk.

"Of course," Arya replied. "Do you want to help him go potty before we go?"

"Do I?" Eragon said, his voice rising as he addressed his baby. "Of course I do, Brom! Come, my boy." He took the baby from Arya, and Brom gurgled, immediately grabbing a fistful of Eragon's beard in each hand.

"You got me!" Eragon cried in mock defeat as he headed with Brom to the washroom. "You know what that means, don't you, you little rascal?" Brom started giggling as Eragon nuzzled his tummy with his chin, and Eragon laughed right along with him.

"You know how much dada loves that sound, don't you, sweetheart? Here we go. That's right, time to go potty." Eragon removed Brom's pants and held him in his arms, cuing Brom to relieve himself, which he promptly did, with some help from Eragon to get the stream pointed toward the toilet.

"Don't worry, my boy," Eragon consoled when the first part of the stream went astray. "Father still misses sometimes. You'll get the hang of it and be more reliable when you've grown a little. Most of the time, that is."

Arya laughed, and Eragon glanced over his shoulder to grin at her. "All done, then?" Eragon asked Brom. "Or do you also need to do the other?" Eragon grunted softly, inviting Brom to relieve his bowels.

Brom seemed intent on pleasing his father, so he also grunted, scrunching his angelic little face in a way only Eragon could appreciate. He was successful, and Eragon praised him as he shifted his tiny weight to one arm so he could wipe him off. "Well done, son! That was a lot. You must feel so much better. I always do. Better out than in, I like to say."

Arya laughed again, as did the others, and Eragon carried on, "After that, and with a tummy full of mama's delicious milk, you'll be all ready for a nice long nap. Whose turn is it? Mine or mother's?" Brom babbled loudly. "Mine? Good! But she'll have to hear it from you. She always tries to take my turn."

He straightened from his stooped posture, dressing Brom and turning him toward his shoulder, where Brom snuggled right down. "All done, mother!" Eragon exclaimed as he returned to Arya. "He said it's my turn to hold him for his nap. Did he remember right?"

"After a display such as that, you only deserve it, darling," Arya lovingly said, handing him the sling they used to carry Brom. "Here you go."

While still holding the baby in one arm, Eragon slipped the wrap over his head and slid Brom down until he was nestled in it, tightening the loose end and tucking it up. He lowered his face to smell Brom's hair and kiss the top of his head.

"I love that," Eragon said. "He smells so good and his hair is so soft. Like someone else I know." He smiled at Arya, reaching for her hand. "Now we're ready."

"You're good at that, Firesword," Breetuk approved. "Never thought I'd hear of a human taking after the Urgralgra ways."

"I'm so grateful we learned them," Eragon earnestly replied. "Brom's the happiest baby I've ever seen. I'm sure it has everything to do with how fully and attentively we're able to meet his needs."

"Can you run with him in that?" Breetuk wondered.

"If I hold his head, I would imagine so," Eragon said. "Why?"

"Grintuk and I wanted to match ourselves against some elves," she explained. "I'm faster than he is, but we both know elves can run like the wind, so we thought it might be fun. I think he secretly wants to see me defeated so he can feel better about himself." She defiantly raised her eyebrows at Grintuk, and he grinned.

"Yes!" Arya exclaimed. "Let's run! Maybe I'll have a chance against Eragon when he's holding the baby."

"And maybe I'll have a chance against Maehrí while she's holding _our_ baby," Hanin said, rubbing his wife's perfect little bulge and kissing her. He shot the Urgals an apologetic glance. "Sorry. Didn't mean to rub it in." He stood and pulled on Maehrí's hand to help her up, though she could have managed just as easily on her own.

"I'll run," Maehrí said. "Gladly. Any excuse to humble my dear husband must be fully utilized." Her tinkling laugh filled the air, and everyone else found themselves automatically laughing in response.

They all filed out the door and lined up in front of the hut. "I get to start us," Eragon said. "I've got the bigger baby, so that gives me the right." He grinned at Maehrí, gently cupping Brom's head in his hand and pressing his forearm along the rest of his body. "On your mark, get set, go!"

They were off like arrows, flying along the ground, and the elves were clearly faster. Hanin pulled ahead of Maehrí with a teasing grin. Eragon was also impossibly fast, but he ran more carefully than usual, moving so smoothly that Brom wasn't bothered. Arya was actually faster than Eragon because of that, which she celebrated with a triumphant laugh that trailed out behind her like her dark hair. The Urgals stayed close behind but couldn't match the dizzying pace. They sped along so swiftly that they were at Myrintuk's within a minute, covering a distance that would have taken ten minutes to walk.

"That's so exhilarating!" Arya exclaimed. "I know you're still faster, darling. Thank you for going easy on me." She laughed and kissed Eragon before doing as Hanin had done and glancing apologetically toward Breetuk. "Sorry," she said.

"Don't worry," Breetuk laughed. "Well, there's no question. You elves—and elf-like humans—are amazing."

Eragon said, "I once ran with Nar Garzhvog, and I was faster at short distances but after about five miles, his endurance was greater. You two would no doubt be the same."

Breetuk went to the door, but Grintuk reached for the handle, opening it for her before she could. "Thank you, Grintuk!" she said. "That was chivalrous." He bowed solemnly, and she laughed as he followed her in. Each male repeated the show of respect as they followed their wives into the hut.


	14. New Mysteries Arise

14\. New Mysteries Arise

Breetuk and Grintuk wasted no time relating the events of their time in Anghelm, starting with the first time Bree held the egg all the way through to their audience with King Kulkarvek.

"Midnight assured me that meeting the king was my first crucial task as a Rider, and that it would set in motion events that needed to come to pass," Breetuk said. "Maybe because I look like my mother and that triggered certain memories. Or maybe it has something to do with the fact that being from the Bolvek clan reminded him of Varhog, which led to his demand that we all visit next year."

Grintuk nodded. "He was completely hostile toward humans, saying he felt they should be swept off the face of the land. We fear what will happen when he learns about you and Willow, Varhog. We don't know if it would be better for him to learn it directly from one of us or indirectly."

Varhog responded, "I'll go with you to visit him next year, and I won't keep that information from him if he asks. I'm not afraid of him, nor will I let anything happen to Willow or the twins. Recently I've felt that our relationship is more important than we ever imagined in establishing peace between our two races, and I feel as you do that it will be hard for that peace to truly exist while Kulkarvek is king." He was silent a moment before asking, "So Kulkarvek implied that dragons took everything from him twice and that two humans with their black and red dragons once showed up, as Murtagh did? What could this mean, Firesword?"

"That's a very good question," Eragon said. "It seems clear he meant Galbatorix and Morzan, but it must have happened sometime after Kulkarvek killed Jarnunvösk. Galbatorix had already gained a great deal of power once he and Morzan emerged from their long study of dark magic. Oromis told me that once Galbatorix began his insurrection in earnest, with Morzan by his side, he was stronger than most any other Rider. One of their main objectives was to obtain as many Eldunarí as possible. I imagine he wanted the Eldunarí of his first dragon, so perhaps he went to seize it."

"And that would explain what Jarnunvösk said about being prisoner to Kulkarvek's wicked will for many years," Grintuk said. "The king's mention of his 'accursedly long life' also confirms the idea that he is all but invincible and can't die, no matter how much he appears to _want_ to die. Breetuk and I both noticed that he seemed terribly agonized and exhausted, that his only reason for living is to exterminate the humans. Beyond that, he appears to want nothing more than to be released from his miserable existence."

"This is very troubling," Nasuada worried. "If Kulkarvek can't die and wants to eradicate humans, then we might be on the brink of another war. Even with all of you Riders, there would be heavy casualties. The Urgal king once killed a dragon and he could surely do it again. He very nearly killed Saphira. And if he can't die, he'll keep trying, throwing away countless lives in the process. I don't know what to say. There are too many unanswered questions."

"Yes, there are many new mysteries," Eragon agreed. "I think it's safe to say that for now, at least, the Riders should once again leave Alagaёsia. If Varhog plans to return with the other Urgals next year to visit the king, maybe we could all return together in time for the next Games. They'll be held next summer in Ilirea, correct, Your Majesty?"

"That's correct," Nasuada agreed. "And if there is a chance some conflict will arise should the king learn about Willow and Varhog, I would prefer all of the Riders to be here together. I feel much differently toward the Urgralgra than I once did, even when we were allies during the war, and I would hate for the loss of life to be high on either side. I'll do anything I can to avoid another war against a seemingly invincible foe. Any war, for that matter. Will my husband be permitted to stay with me?"

"I'm staying, Nasuada," Murtagh said firmly, holding Lena as she slept. "No matter what my brother might say."

"I agree," Eragon said. "We need someone who can get from place to place quickly, if it comes to that. But more than that, you belong with your wife and daughter. They come before the Riders."

"I'm glad you agree," Murtagh dryly stated. "So when will the rest of you leave?"

"I'm the newest so I'm sure my voice doesn't count for much, but can we at least wait until my friend gets back so Grintuk and I can get married?" Breetuk requested. "That should only be another two weeks at the most."

"The twins will be two months by then too," Willow added. "And I think I might finally be up for a journey like that."

"Two weeks from today is the day after your birthday," Varhog said, and Willow raised her eyebrows. "I remembered, Eartheyes. Aren't you proud?"

"Very," Willow approved.

"I've been trying to think of ways to make it special, as you did for me," Varhog explained. "But I'm coming up short."

"We'll help you throw a big party, Varhog," Maehrí offered. "If it really does end up being right around the time we leave, it can also double as our farewell party. If Willow doesn't mind."

"Not at all!" Willow cried. "But I don't need a big party. I have everything I've ever wanted."

In her arms, William blew a big bubble while eagerly waving his hand. Willow looked down at him and grinned when the bubble popped, splattering him with saliva.

"And you'll be _two_ months old by then, William!" Willow animatedly said in her sing-song voice. " _That_ is something that deserves celebrating, now isn't it!" She turned him around and hefted him up in front of her face, kissing his dimpled cheek, since he had assumed a huge grin on seeing his mother right in front of him.

"Oh my goodness," Willow continued in the same tone, also smiling. "What a big boy you are! I love these chubby cheeks!" William grabbed her face and brought his right next to it, slobbering on her cheek with wet lips.

"Thank you, William!" Willow cried, laughing. "Nothing beats one of _your_ kisses. Well maybe father's, but only just." Varhog chuckled.

Baby Var was entertaining his grandmother in a similar fashion with animated sounds and movements. Garzhvog, who was sitting next to Myrintuk, was getting in on the interaction, and Var seemed to particularly appreciate that, perhaps because Garzhvog was so much like his father. Myrintuk finally just handed him over to his grandpa, and Garzhvog carried on just as easily as Varhog always did.

Eragon continued the previous discussion by saying, "I think on the way back to the Isle, I'd like to stop and visit Orik once more. We promised we would so we could introduce Brom and that will give us an opportunity to meet back up with Knilf and Bodin. So we have two weeks to plan and prepare. But I have another item of business. Before the rest of you arrived, the four of us here discussed the possibility of using some of this time to visit nearby cities and villages. We sensed from our time in Yazuac that many of the people resented our long absence, which is my fault, I'm afraid. We also saw how valuable it was for them to see Varhog get along so well with other races. I wouldn't expect Willow and Varhog to travel right now, especially when we have such a long journey ahead of us, but how do you others feel about this idea? When the dwarves left, I asked them to stop in as many dwarven cities as they could to become acquainted with the citizens."

"I think that's a wonderful idea," Nasuada said. "And I would like to accompany one of these groups. It might help foster goodwill between the races, and we're always trying to come up with ways to do that in the years we don't hold the Games. I think visiting Urgal villages, along with human ones, would be wise. What would be the most effective way to visit as many cities as possible?"

"Perhaps two groups would be sufficient," Eragon mused. "One could fly straight south, perhaps as far as Feinster, and stop at many of the coastal cities on their way back—Belatona, Kuasta, Teirm, Narda—before coming back here. We need not stay long in each city. A day would most likely suffice. Just enough time for us meet people, help them if we can, foster goodwill, as you say, and be on our way. We can also announce our intention of being present for the Games next year."

"The other group might also be able to fly south to Dras-Leona, but then veer east to stop at Bullridge, then Gil'ead, up to Ceunon, and back down through Yazuac and Daret," Nasuada suggested. "Would two weeks give enough time for this, if we stayed only a day in each city?"

"Most likely," Eragon said. "If we run short on time, we can either return here before completing our circuit or extend the time of our departure. We're far enough from Anghelm and have plans to take our leave directly. I hope that's enough to appease the king, as long as we avoid his territory."

"How shall we divide?" Nasuada asked. "I propose we have an Urgal Rider in each group so when we visit the various human and Urgal settlements, we can continue working on softening the enmity and prejudice dividing them."

"If one group goes to Feinster, I might actually like to go," Willow said, "since I'm from there. I've never been back, and they might like to see their native Rider again. So Varhog would naturally be in that group. Traveling a little with the babies before the long journey back to the Isle will probably help us prepare for that."

"That route would also take us through more of the Urgal villages," Varhog contributed. "Meeting Willow and hearing her speak Urgralish would probably be the best way to begin introducing them to the idea of friendship between our races. Every Urgal who has had any amount of time to meet Willow inevitably ends up loving her." The Urgals in the room nodded their agreement. "But I fear we might not make it to all of the human and Urgralish villages, if we did that."

"Would there be a problem with dividing into three groups?" Arya asked. "I know Breetuk and Grintuk wouldn't want to be separated, so they should probably go with Nasuada and Murtagh. But maybe Eragon and I, along with Hanin and Maehrí, could take the route through cities with the least human-Urgal conflict."

"Then maybe the two groups with Urgal Riders should divide between north and south, rather than east and west," Murtagh submitted. "Most of the interaction between humans and Urgals takes place around the Spine. I would prefer going north, since our group of me and Nasuada, as well as Grintuk and Breetuk, would involve only two adult dragons. That might be better, given our proximity to the king in Anghelm. But even then, it might be best for only Grintuk and Breetuk to visit the Urgal villages and discover their feelings toward Kulkarvek. Nasuada and I should probably steer clear of any Urgal villages that far north and instead visit the human villages. We can ensure them that we're working on a solution to the Urgal conflicts and continue encouraging tolerance."

"That's a good idea," Grintuk agreed. "We'll obviously avoid Anghelm altogether, but even if you and Lady Nightstalker don't stay in any of the Urgralish villages, I think Breetuk and I should try to come with you to the human ones. That way they would meet two Urgals who aren't trying to harass them in any way. It might prove useful at some future time."

"Good point," Eragon said. "So if we divide in three and Willow and Varhog go to Feinster before circling back up through the southern human and Urgal villages, who should go with them?"

"I guess that leaves me," Tomath said. "I'd love to go with Willow and Varhog."

"Perfect," Eragon approved. "My group will go east to Bullridge, and from there on to Gilead and the settlement at Marna. We stopped in Osilon on our way to and from Ellesméra, so visiting again may not be needful. We can go to Ceunon and maybe meet Murtagh's group in Carvahall to say goodbye to Roran before heading back. I think Roran would appreciate it, though we wouldn't stay overnight. Only an hour or so, at most. Once we arrive back here, we'll have the weddings and leave not long after."

Myrintuk tentatively said, "May I volunteer myself and Garzhvog to travel with you and the elves, Firesword? We aren't Riders, but we love you all and our human daughter-in-law and can both speak the common tongue. If you think having Urgals in every group would be beneficial, we can help you accomplish that end since the other groups already do. And since the two couples would likely fly together, there would always be at least one dragon flying alone. A flying adventure with my mate sounds exciting."

"That's very generous, Myrintuk," Eragon said. "Thank you. I think it's a very good idea and have no objections whatsoever." He glanced at his three traveling companions, who were also agreeable. "That will be good. I know human and Urgal relations are still strained in Gil'ead. Almost every human city, actually."

They discussed the matter until all of the details were decided, then everyone went their separate ways for lunch and to begin preparing for their travels. As they walked back toward their respective huts, Arya said to Willow, "Come by our place first. We have an early birthday present for you. And something for Varhog too."

Once they arrived, Arya went back to the bedroom and returned a moment later with two bundles. She handed one to Willow, and it wasn't a bundle but her steel-silk armor, neatly folded.

"Thank you again," Arya said. "It was amazing." She grinned, and Eragon nodded.

"Especially for me," Eragon added. "You'll enjoy it, Varhog."

"I'd nearly forgotten!" Willow cried. "Which is ridiculous! I'm so excited! What a marvelous early birthday present. We'll put it to good use."

"I have no doubt of it," Arya said. "We certainly have. And this is for you, Varhog. For some reason, we felt to give it to you first, though you'll undoubtedly want to share it with Willow at some point. We'll leave that up to you, but don't open it here. She's already dreadfully curious, and your reaction will give it away. I'm sure of it." Varhog curiously accepted the bundle but didn't unwrap it, moving his hand down when William, who was in his arms, reached out to grab the interesting new object.

"I guess we should be off," Willow airily said. "You know, plenty of packing to do. Among other things." She laughed, as did the others. "Farewell, you two. We'll no doubt see you again before we leave tomorrow morning."


	15. Using the Armor

15\. Using the Armor

Willow and Varhog put the steel-silk armor to good use as soon as their sons next napped, beginning their time together with a playful dance in their favorite position—Willow standing on Varhog's bare feet.

"It feels like a fine evening gown," Willow delightedly commented after donning the armor for the first time. "So silky and soft."

"It looks like one too," Varhog observed. "You look stunning, Eartheyes. Just like I thought you would. It's nice being able to dance like this again."

"Yes," Willow agreed, teasingly adding, "I've always wanted to tell you what a nice platform your broad, seven-toed feet make. It doesn't hurt you, does it?"

"No," Varhog reassured, chuckling at her remark.

"Your bare chest is as tempting as ever," Willow then said. "Shall we proceed?"

"Soon enough," Varhog answered. "Let me enjoy you like this a little longer." He rested his face on her hair, breathing deeply and running one hand through it. Then he started humming the elven song of selfless love, which she recognized from the many times he had, so she joined him.

Varhog warned, "I'm going to squeeze you as hard as I can." Willow felt his chest flex under her face, but the armor contracted under the pressure, completely protecting her from his crushing grip.

Willow laughed. "The only way I felt it was in your muscles flexing. _Now_ are you ready to proceed?"

"Aye. Do you want to help me undress?"

"Of course!" Willow cried. "It's one of my favorite activities."

Varhog laughed, teasing, "I think you might be better at undressing me than I am."

"You're probably right," she agreed. "I could say the same for you."

They moved over to the bed where they could fully enjoy the amazing features of the steel-silk armor. The twins giggled in their sleep in response to Varhog's usual gratified roar, and he and Willow laughed.

"Thank you, Willow," Varhog then said. "That was unbelievable."

"You're welcome, though we should really be thanking Rhunön. I'm glad there's another use for the armor than the one she intended. What do you suppose that is, Varhog?"

Varhog grew serious. "Willow, I need to tell you about something that happened during the birth," he began. "While you were unconscious and after Rahna instructed the others on how to help you with the tree of life, she told me something. Even though I was so worried about you, I made myself memorize what she said so I would be able to think about it later. I'll tell you exactly what Rahna told me.

"She said, 'My son, I am so proud of you. You have endured much to be with Willow. You have both triumphed over great opposition to be together. Your tribulations have not just begun, Varhog, but neither are they now over. The most difficult trial of your love and faith is yet to come, but if you and Willow can bear yourselves up as valiantly as you have hitherto done, your reward will be eternal. This is all the help I can give you, my son. Acquit yourselves of your final test as commendably as you always have, and your suffering will be at an end. I love you, my son. Remember your faith and to call on the heavens. Fare thee well.' And then she left."

Varhog took a deep breath. "We have something big ahead of us, Willow. If the most difficult trial is yet to come, then we have something daunting to endure. We've been through so much, and I can't imagine anything worse than almost losing you except for actually losing you. Or the babies."

"Or you," Willow solemnly added. "Do you think this has something to do with the king?"

"I can't think of anything else that would present a big enough threat," Varhog replied. "Especially after what we learned today. I don't know what's expected of us, Willow, but if we can endure it well, our suffering will be over. We must do as Rahna counseled and remember our faith. They're obviously watching out for us up there, and they have a purpose for giving us these trials, for testing our love and commitment. I can't help but feel like we're being prepared for something bigger than we can comprehend right now. I want to be ready."

"As do I," Willow agreed. "Thank you for sharing that, Varhog. I'm sure you debated, worried it might upset me." He nodded. "I'm glad we can shoulder the burden together and confide in one another as we were unable to before. We're growing in our relationship, aren't we?"

"Yes, Eartheyes. I'll do my best to protect you and the babies."

"I know you will, Varhog. I've never doubted that. You once promised me that you would stand against a foe as formidable as Black Thunder himself before letting any harm come to me. It sounds like the king might be just such an enemy, but it's so tragic. He's our grandfather. If he hadn't been so stubborn about mother's choice to marry your sire, he might have enjoyed this whole family in his miserable old age."

"That _is_ a tragedy," Varhog agreed. "Looks like the babies are ready to go potty. I'll help Var. He's usually the most anxious. If I don't help him first at night, he'll relieve himself while I cue William. It's funny. William doesn't do the same thing, so I always help Var first."

"Do you often help them?" Willow wondered as Varhog scooped Var off the bed and took him to the chamber pot. "At night, I mean?"

"Every night," Varhog confirmed. "You're always asleep, relaxed by the nursing. But I stay awake as long as I can to watch you all. It's one of my favorite times. It also enables me to help them when they begin to get restless, then they'll sleep deeply for a time, and I can sleep too."

"That's so sweet, Varhog. I don't even notice you moving me."

He grinned. "I try to be careful. I love being able to help you all. Good job, Var," he then said to the baby. "Now I'll take you back to mother so I can help William." He walked back to Willow, nuzzling Var's chubby tummy with his chin. Var giggled and grabbed onto one of his father's horns with precocious strength. Varhog tried to hand him back to Willow, but Var held on doggedly. Varhog removed his hands, keeping them right next Var, who supported his own weight as he dangled from Varhog's horn. "Look how strong he is," he said to Willow.

"I'm impressed," she said.

Varhog gently tickled the baby's underarm, and Var giggled again, releasing his grip. Willow accepted him in her free arm and began nursing him while Varhog took William and repeated the process, all the way down to snuggling him at the end. He lay William at her other breast, sitting behind her so he could support her arms.

"I love being a mother, Varhog," Willow said as the babies enjoyed their meal. "I never thought it could be so much fun, especially with two, but you help me so much that it almost seems easy. I suppose it helps that we get to be together all day and they're all we have to worry about besides each other. When we get back to the Isle that might change, but it will be nice to feel like I'm contributing to my sustenance again."

Once the twins were finished eating, Willow and Varhog each held one on their lap, facing each other, and the boys began their lively chatting and waving.

Willow laughed as she watched them. "I feel so blessed to have two. I love that they're such good friends. Look how they just jabber on and on. I guess they must get that from me."

"They love you, Willow," Varhog said, "and each other. They must have felt how content you were their whole development and had that happiness instilled right into their very natures. Seeing them like this is so endearing. I'm glad we have two as well, and that they're so special and unique. They're more talkative and interactive than their cousin, baby Varhog, who's almost nine months their senior. How old do you think they'll be when they say their first word?"

"When does it usually happen?" Willow asked. "Don't they usually start making word-like sounds around a year?" Varhog shrugged uncertainly.

"Well," Willow nonetheless continued, "I think they'll be making word-like sounds by the time they're six months. How could they not when they seem so intent on communicating verbally."

"I bet you'll be right," Varhog said. "You always are about things like this. They'll probably move around early too, though I suppose their large size could hinder them some. I love being a father, Willow. Thank you for giving me this beautiful life, for our family."

"Couldn't have done it without you, Yelloweyes," Willow playfully said. "Back when I used to call you Yelloweyes all the time, you never thought this would one day be our future, did you?"

"No," Varhog agreed. "It reminds me so much of our time on the Isle and how I felt exactly like you just said. It hasn't even been a year since we left, and we already have two babies. Things changed so drastically and so quickly. I couldn't be more grateful."

Willow nodded. "We call baby Varhog 'Var.' Maybe we should give William a nickname too. What do you think about calling him Will?"

"Fine with me," Varhog said.

They held Will and Var until they needed to potty again. As they nursed to sleep for their next nap, Willow fell asleep with them, but Varhog wasn't tired, so he reached over to grab the bundle Arya had given him off the bedside table. He unwrapped it to reveal a heart-shaped slate and was confused until he turned it over. Then his breath caught and tears filled his eyes as he gazed at the beautiful fairth, masterfully rendered by Arya only hours after his sons were born.

Varhog appreciated all of the details Arya had instilled, but especially how tenderly their bodies were arranged to form the hearts, which was emphasized by the shape of the slate. Willow looked so delicate, still so pale after nearly bleeding to death, but also strong and beautiful.

He realized they formed this shape again nearly every time they fed the babies, and Varhog was filled with wonder as he contemplated how much he loved his family. He would willingly lay down his life to protect them and his strength held them all together, just as the fairth suggested.

As Varhog rewrapped the fairth, he decided to do as Arya had suggested and wait to share it with Willow. He hoped the right time would be obvious because he knew she would love it just as much as he did.

He looked down at Willow's face, turned toward his chest as it was in the fairth, and tears sprang unbidden to his eyes. He wept as he held her, full of gratitude and love. Once his tears stopped, Varhog felt weary, and he rested his chin on her head, allowing himself to drift off until the babies needed them again.


	16. Fostering Goodwill

16\. Fostering Goodwill

The three groups left on their goodwill missions the next day, and the two weeks passed swiftly. Each group accomplished their desires of doing good and getting to know the peoples of Alagaёsia. In the brief time they had at each stop, the Riders provided whatever services they could, healing the sick, assisting with construction efforts, and fostering cooperation.

News of their visits spread ahead of them, and the cities and villages were soon buzzing with anticipation. Calls of "The Riders are coming!" met them everywhere they landed, along with throngs of eager citizens anxious to meet them and benefit from their abilities. Just as they hoped, seeing members of the various races represented in their numbers improved interracial friendship and peace.

Disappointment inevitably accompanied every departure, but news that the Riders would return for the next Games gave the people something to look forward to. Many began making plans to attend.

-:-:-

The group that flew north met with great success. Grintuk and Breetuk landed in each Urgal village by themselves, but upon learning that they traveled in the company of the famed Lady Nightstalker, most of the Urgralgra clans asked to meet her.

The Riders learned that many of the Urgals opposed Kulkarvek's tyranny, especially after hearing that he had ordered the execution of members of their own race and threatened to kill innocent Urgralgra women and children. In most cases, they reluctantly admitted these feelings for fear of what might befall them if Kulkarvek learned of their resistance. But the Riders reassured them with promises of protection.

On the other hand, the human villagers were amazed that their high queen traveled so companionably with two Urgals, which was compelling evidence that she was as intent as she had ever been on establishing peace with them. And the children in both places helped dispel feelings of mistrust.

The Urgralgra children were fascinated by Nasuada's ebony skin and Selena's blue eyes and tuft of tightly curled hair. The human children were amazed by the incredible height of the two Kull Dragon Riders, but once the two tall Urgals knelt down, they played just as delightedly with the children as Varhog always did.

-:-:-

Eragon and his companions were also successful, for he and Arya were the most famous Dragon Riders in Alagaёsia for their role in defeating Galbatorix and Shruikan, and they traveled with the Urgal war chief known for allying himself with the other races during the war.

They had time to visit Osilon, where the elves were thrilled to have four dragons descend into their midst, three of which belonged with elf Riders. The elven race was traditionally more understanding of the Urgal race, having treated with them in times past, so they were the most accepting of Garzhvog and Myrintuk, especially as they saw how well the Riders got along with them.

-:-:-

Everywhere the final group visited, the twins instantly won the hearts of the most hardened haters, whether they happened to be Urgralgra or human. They loved anyone who held them, babbling and waving as happily as ever. That Willow could speak flawless Urgralish also stunned every Urgal who heard her. There was no doubt that the human woman loved her Urgal mate, as was made clear in the existence of their two sons and her complete acceptance of his culture.

Willow's twenty-fourth birthday fell on the day her group arrived at their second to last stop, which was an Urgal village just northeast of Teirm in the middle of the Spine. Varhog had been wracking his brain to come up with a way to make it special for Willow, though he knew she didn't expect it. He remembered a promise he had made the previous winter and finally decided that the only thing he could do was take her somewhere meaningful.

Late that night, after they had finished visiting and feasting with the villagers, he asked her if she would spend the night with him somewhere other than the hut they had been offered.

"I don't know, Yelloweyes," Willow teased. "Spending the night with a strange ram? That sounds a little questionable. Are you planning on stealing my virtue?"

"I want to do something special for your birthday," Varhog explained, smiling. "Stealing your virtue in a strange location seems my last hope for success, given the nature of our travels these last weeks."

"Well, if _that's_ the case, then yes! I absolutely will spend the night with you wherever you want to take me."

"Let me tell Tomath," Varhog said. "Where we're going is on the way to our last stop tomorrow, so I'll have him meet us sometime in the morning. Are you opposed to a long night?"

"I'm never opposed to losing some sleep in your arms," Willow quipped. "And I'm sure I'll need your help again to even get comfortable, which always leads to more interesting things."

Varhog grinned. She was referring to the fact that their travels and the high demand of interacting with the babies had totally exhausted them, and they had been sleeping deeply for three, four, or five-hour stretches. Since Willow's breasts were used to feeding them every hour, they had become painfully engorged most of the nights of their trip, and she had finally been forced to beg Varhog for help relieving her discomfort.

After informing Tomath of their plans and ensuring he would be fine without them, which he assured them he would, with Snowfire for company, Willow and Varhog mounted Black Thunder, each with a baby in a sling around their body.

The traveling hadn't been as difficult as they imagined, for the twins loved being held next to either one of their parents, and when it was time to eat, Willow would loosen her sling enough that both babies could fit inside, supported underneath by Varhog's arms. They had found a number of successful positions and rotated through them.

When not nursing, Varhog would hold one of the boys in a sling, positioning him off to one side so Willow could still lean against him. Helping the babies relieve themselves was also a simple matter. Willow and Varhog held them away from their bodies, and the wind carried the waste away. They could travel for much longer stretches than when Willow had been near the end of her pregnancy, but they never had far to fly before reaching their next destination and a new group of people wanting to meet and hold the babies.

Willow and Varhog were grateful each night or when flying to get the babies back to themselves. But the twins were so good-natured and happy that even though their perfect routine was completely interrupted, they never grew cross or fussy, sharing smiles and laughs with everyone until they got tired or hungry, whereupon they fell asleep or were returned to Willow.

Black Thunder soon neared their destination, and Varhog said, _I'm sure you can guess where I'm taking you_.

 _I think so,_ Willow agreed. _But I'm willing to act surprised._ Varhog laughed.

As soon as they could see the shimmering gemstone pine needles, created by Sunset on their first visit, Willow delightedly cried, _Our hot spring!_ _It's perfect, Varhog! I'm so glad we came back here when I'm not pregnant so I can get in the water longer._

 _Happy birthday,_ Varhog apologetically thought. _I know it's not much, but I couldn't think of a present you might like._ Varhog actually did know of a present Willow would _love._ The fairth. But for some reason, it still didn't feel like the right time to give it to her.

 _I_ love _this, Varhog!_ she insisted. _Thank you, sweetheart. It's thoughtful and special to us._

Black Thunder descended right over the hot spring, which was the nearest opening in the thick trees. The hot water sprayed up under the gusts of wind created by his wings as he lowered his great bulk down, gingerly landing on one of the huge boulders surrounding the pool and folding his wings so he could hop over the water onto the small shore. The ground shook under his immense weight, and the jolt woke the babies.

"Let's get down and feed them so they'll sleep a long while for us," Willow suggested. After ensuring the babies were comfortably snuggled next to one another on a soft sleeping mat, Varhog and Willow entered the water.

"It's a good thing the late summer nights are cooler in the mountains than on the coast," Varhog commented.

"It feels so amazing," Willow murmured, wading over to him and wrapping herself around him. "And it eases the aches of spending so much time in a saddle." She laid her head on her arm, the bridge of her nose pushing into the bottom curl of his horn.

Varhog ran his hands along her back, swirling her hair through the water. "I never did feel like we got to finish up here when last we visited," he said. "Murtagh interrupted us."

"Yes, he did," Willow agreed. "That was an amazing night. It was such a relief to know I wouldn't have any more strange reactions to you. The first night here was agonizing, and that wasn't even the worst of it."

"It seems like such a long time ago," Varhog mused. "It has been so long since I've even wondered if you really like being with me. It's such an amazing feeling to be so certain of your love and acceptance. These past weeks of visiting so many humans and Urgals who still find the idea so foreign has reminded me that I once felt similarly and wondered how you could possibly love an Urgal ram."

"Or how you could possibly love a human female," Willow playfully returned. " _You_ are my best birthday gift, Yelloweyes, just as you assured me I was the best present you have ever received. I adore you, my handsome, caring, selfless ram. I'm glad you no longer doubt it." She lifted her face, resting her cheek inside the curl of his horn. Her new position put her lips right next to his ear, and she took advantage of it, nuzzling the tip of his ear where it was slightly pointing and teasing, "An Urgal ram with elf ears and a human mate. You _are_ an oddity, aren't you, Yelloweyes?"

"There was never any question of that, Eartheyes," he joked, and she laughed softly, her breath tickling his ear. Though they were in the hot water up to his shoulders, he still felt a shiver run through him. "Does it hurt you to put your face on my horn like that?" he wondered.

"No, it doesn't. It's smooth and cradles my face. I suppose when we've lived a thousand years and the spiral fills in this lovely opening, I won't be able to do it anymore. Best make the most of it while we can."

"Maybe they'll simply wear away with time and you'll have better access to my ears than ever before," Varhog teased, attempting to distract himself.

"That might happen?" Willow worried. "I guess I have noticed some of the Herndall with only nubs for horns. I hope it _doesn't_ happen, Varhog. I love your horns. They're the first part of you I ever touched, part of what makes you so handsome in my eyes." She kept her face nestled against his right horn and reached out to run her hand around the curl of his left horn, which was the same one she had first touched.

Varhog shivered again. "You haven't even kissed me, Eartheyes, and I'm already going crazy. How is it possible to want you more every time I'm with you?"

"I hardly know," Willow said. "I feel exactly the same." She moved her face, bringing her lips to his jaw on the other side of his horn. "Relax," she invited. "I felt you tense up a moment ago. I'm your wife, Varhog. Don't fight your arousal. Join with me." With each sentence, she planted a kiss on his jaw, ending with her second to last kiss on his chin. Then she lifted her mouth to gently kiss his lips.

Before closing her eyes and completely surrendering to the lovely demands of their kiss, she gazed into his eyes, which were gleaming in the darkness, hoping hers conveyed everything she felt. Then they let the tender, passionate love they shared swallow them until the babies woke up and exhaustion overtook them at the edge of their hot spring.

-:-:-:-

* * *

 **A/N:** I removed three more chapters about Breetuk and Grintuk. They once followed this one, but you can now find them at autumn6435 . livejournal . com, condensed into one chapter and added onto the entry entitled _Part 4, Run and A New Love._ Chapters 14, 15, and 16, which you just read, happened in between them. All explicit content is gone, leaving the rating of both chapters in that entry as Mature. The recap of events at the beginning of the next chapter will likely seem quite rushed. Grintuk and Breetuk's romance was sudden enough, and I'm sure it seems even less believable when summarized in a few short paragraphs. Alas, I had such fun writing it, and having them married is important for the overall plot and my sequel _Next Generation,_ so I just kept it.


	17. Dinner Conversation

17\. Dinner Conversation

The Riders arrived back in the Bolvek village three days after the youth traveling from Anghelm. They had spent the previous night with Tomath's family in Daret, so they got home the morning of the double wedding, for Pultog had immediately proposed to Nayvek as soon as he could.

The celebration started at midday with Nayvek and Pultog's marriage, followed immediately by Breetuk and Grintuk's. After the cheering had subsided, the crowds dispersed to begin the feast, but Breetuk and Grintuk decided to slip away for a time, asking Varhog and Willow to sit in their place of honor so their absence would be less conspicuous. Breetuk ran to the lake, Grintuk racing along behind and completely unprepared for the plummet into the water over the edge of the high cliffs.

They intentionally repeated their accidental encounter of a few weeks earlier, continuing on after swimming to shore. As the sun sank in the late afternoon sky, Breetuk worriedly observed that most everyone would have missed them by then, but Grintuk reassured her that they would all understand.

Soon after, they donned their clothing—which Grintuk had managed to save from the depths of the lake in all of his swimming—and ran back to where they had removed their wedding attire.

As she slipped back into her gown, Breetuk said, "I hope my mother doesn't mind that there won't be any need for the Preparing the Bride ritual tonight, though that would traditionally be done by your family. Do you think they'll approve of our union? My family does, but my mother did the same thing and Varhog's deviation was more significant than we would have ever imagined."

Grintuk gathered his clothing and said, "My family wholeheartedly approves, Bree. I'm sorry I forgot to mention this. I scryed my mother the afternoon we decided to become mates, and she was thrilled. Her only regret is that she couldn't be here. But if we show up next year and you're clearly expecting, it might make up for it." He grinned. "I have no problem if you skip the ritual tonight. More time for me. I can't imagine your body looking any more tantalizing in some skimpy negligee than it does naked. Since I've already enjoyed the privilege of seeing it that way, I see no reason to tease me."

"Agreed. Aren't you going to get dressed? Not that I object."

"I'll probably soon be expected to fight, so I thought I would save myself the trouble," he explained. "And I wanted to give you the pleasure of observing my fine features." He laughed as Breetuk lunged for him, getting in a fairly good tickle before he was able to stop her.

"Well done, Bree," he praised when he finally had hold of both her wrists in one great hand. "Good timing when my hands are otherwise occupied."

"I'll remember that," Breetuk warned. "There were plenty of times today when your hands were otherwise occupied. And your eyes." Grintuk put his arm around her, and she leaned into him as they walked back toward the village square.

They were surprised to find very few people there. Among them were some of Breetuk's family—her mother, sister-in-law Yvenna, and older sister Trayin.

"Finally back?" Trayin asked with a knowing smile. "We thought you would surely stay away for the night when you didn't return before lunch ended."

Breetuk grinned, and Grintuk said nothing, going straight to the water and drinking four glasses in a row before stopping.

Breetuk laughed as she observed him. "That right there explains it," she said, and the others nodded in understanding. "We experienced our first endless lovemaking session."

"You were able to stop so soon?" Myrintuk asked in exaggerated amazement, laughing at Breetuk's expression. "Those Kull warriors have even greater stamina than the rest of the fighting rams."

"Mother!" Breetuk cried as if scandalized. Then she laughed. "I'm only kidding, mother. I finally understand the constant sounds that come from your bedroom _every_ night. It's impossible not to want more with a Kull warrior as a mate. They're magnificent. I'm so glad we didn't wait until tonight. Now I can enjoy watching Grintuk fight without impatient longing threatening to consume me. I noticed Willow having that problem the night she and Varhog were married. Where are all the others anyway?"

As she took a seat beside him, Breetuk followed Grintuk's example, for he had promptly begun devouring the nearest food he could. Yvenna got to her feet and brought them more from a neighboring table.

Myrintuk answered, "Your Dragon Rider brother thoughtfully offered everyone rides on the dragons, and the other Riders all agreed. With nine fully grown dragons able to participate, they'll most likely be gone just as long as you want."

"I've barely even thought about Midnight today!" Breetuk guiltily exclaimed. "But she's doing fine with Kuldr. He has taken her under his wing. Good thing, when her Rider is so distracted!"

"You needn't worry," Myrintuk continued. "Barely anyone noticed your disappearance with the feasting and the excitement of riding the dragons. I do think Nayvek did, however, and she and Pultog haven't been seen since." She shook her head, laughing happily. "You newlyweds. As bad as us olderweds. Anyway, Varhog is awaiting Grintuk's mental message to bring them all back for more feasting. Then they'll begin the fighting. Knowing what a spectacular fighter Varhog is, everyone is most anxious to see how the Kull Dragon Rider does."

Grintuk grinned around a mouthful of food. After swallowing, he said, "They might be disappointed. I'm not bad, but I can't defeat Varhog. At least I couldn't when he left nearly a year ago, and I haven't had an opponent of the same caliber since. I suppose I have you to thank for that. He assures me that his wrestling abilities are largely thanks to his long and illustrious breastfeeding career."

Myrintuk laughed again as Grintuk added, "And he's unbelievably powerful, though by size you would expect me to be stronger. That breast milk really does a body good. I'm also interested to stand against Willow, if she's feeling up to it. I'm sure she could defeat me as she did your mate, but my pride won't accept it until it actually happens."

"You should also stand against Bree," Myrintuk suggested. "She's not a bad fighter. Given the same instruction Varhog gave Willow, she may one day come to best you as well."

"I'm sure of it," Grintuk agreed. "If my current experience with her abilities is any indication, then she will certainly one day be my superior on the battle field as well."

They continued to eat, and Grintuk commented, "I fear we may not leave any food for them to enjoy once they return. Especially if Nayvek and Pultog soon reappear and have worked up an equally formidable appetite. But I'm quite thankful we have this all to ourselves right now. I'm sure all of you helped prepare it, so thank you from the bottom of my heart. Or my stomach, which happens to be lower and is therefore a truer indication of how deep my hunger actually is."

As everyone laughed, Trayin said, "Well done, little sister, on snagging such a charming ram. These Dragon Rider types always seem so stern and serious. All it takes is breaking through that hard exterior and you find the most delightful wit underneath. Varhog has shocked us all, Grintuk. Although that might have more to do with the nature of your mates. Willow is just as silly as Bree."

"That's more likely it," Grintuk said. "We Dragon Rider males have a tendency to become self-absorbed, philosophical old fools. Without nearly the female presence on the Isle that we so desperately needed, we were doomed to a lonely, dull, endless existence. Thank goodness our fearless leader set the example he did when his lovely mate joined him on the Isle. He changed so much that none of us even recognized him. It set in motion Murtagh's union, as well as Varhog's. Hanin and I didn't stand a chance with the new females who joined our ranks, though he did a better job of holding out than I did. Now our dwarf brothers need to find mates, and we'll be set. Much happier, healthier, and more productive for the inimitable influence these amazing women have."

"Truly," Trayin approved. "So Bree, you said something in your union ceremony that made all of us who are aware of your encounter a couple weeks ago wonder whether you might not _soon_ be filling Grintuk's arms with a healthy cub. Are you pregnant?"

"No, Trayin," Breetuk said with a laugh. "There was a chance, but my body was so stressed out by the possibility of getting pregnant when I felt so unprepared that it graciously delayed ovulation until it was no longer a risk. I want to be back here next summer before I have a cub. I want to have all of my sisters around for the birth. We're going to wait at least a few months before trying to conceive. After today, I realize that will most likely be harder than I thought, but I think we'll be successful with a little determination."

"I'm sad you won't be here for our birth," Yvenna lamented. "But I understand. And I'm so happy for you, Bree. How does it feel, mother, to have all of your children so happily married? Except my younger brothers, I suppose."

"It's amazing," Myrintuk answered. "I'm so pleased by how well they all chose and that all of them are so in love. That's the greatest gift I could receive as a mother with grown children, along with all of the grandchildren. If all of you had eight children like I did, I would have over _sixty_ grandchildren! More, if I count Garzhvog's children. That's almost too many to comprehend!"

At that moment, Nayvek and Pultog returned, sitting across from Breetuk and Grintuk and grinning as one would expect of a couple on their honeymoon.

"Splendid idea, Bree!" Nayvek gushed. "We saw you two sneaking off and immediately copied you. I'm _so_ glad we did! Was that not the greatest experience ever! No wonder Myrin is as she is. And Willow. And everyone else, for that matter." She laughed in elation. "Where did you two go?"

"The lake," Breetuk replied. "You should try it. Grintuk had no idea I was getting ready to run straight over some great cliffs, so he cluelessly followed me. You know how the trees hide the view until the last moment?"

"You're fearless, Bree," Pultog said in admiration. "Barely any of us are brave enough to jump off the cliffs, and you always sprint over the edge with reckless abandon, performing the most amazing dives before landing perfectly."

"Well, whether or not you start by jumping off the cliffs, at least go to the lake and make love in the water. It's amazing. Where did you two go?"

"Our hut!" Nayvek cried. "I'm so glad I can call it that now, instead of 'Pul's place.' Good thing no one else was around. I was, um, excited." She giggled. "Pultog thought it was all right." She elbowed him.

"Yes, it was fine," Pultog agreed with mock indifference. Then he laughed and whistled. "It was unbelievable. Nayvek's crazy. Wild. Uncontrollable. Perfect." He turned his smile on his new mate. "Thank you for waiting for me to get my act together, Nayvi. If I had died before experiencing that with you or lost you to some bolder ram, I would never have forgiven myself. I consider myself the luckiest ram alive."

"They _all_ do, dear," Nayvek teased. "Bree, was it not perfectly obvious why? I can't stop thinking about Pultog's body. No wonder the females all keep their rams so busy in bed. They can't help their impressive strength and musculature."

"I had exactly the same thoughts," Breetuk agreed. "Urgralgra females are insatiable because their rams are so tempting." She eyed Grintuk suggestively, letting her eyes trail down his perfect form.

"It wouldn't be fair if someone didn't put in a word for Urgralgra females," Grintuk said. "You're all as beautiful as the rams. No wonder we're willing to fight and kill to be worthy to have one of you. So tall—even when not Kull—and strong and feminine. Delightfully feminine. I'm so glad I'm Urgralgra. I wouldn't trade my ethnicity for anything. What did you think of the endless lovemaking, Pultog? Nice, wasn't it?"

"To say the least," Pultog agreed. "Is that not normal?"

"For the Urgralgra it is," Grintuk assured him. "When you've had any exposure to the way intimacy is with other races, you soon learn it's frightfully different for those males. They can only enjoy one release before losing their arousal and needing some time to recover."

"Truly?" Pultog said, shaking his head pityingly. "Then I too am immeasurably grateful to be an Urgal."

"How about the kissing?" Nayvek enthused. "Oh! I loved that. There was _no_ fighting it, but why would we have wanted to?"

Breetuk laughed. "Um, yes, Nayvi. I accidentally remembered that about one second too late two and a half weeks ago. Grintuk had just told me he loved me. Wouldn't you know? Just like you predicted. We fell hard, Nayvi. And _fast._ Anyway, I was teasing him and told him I knew a way to make it more memorable, and I leaned in and kissed him before he could warn me, before I recalled why I shouldn't. It was like you said. No fighting it. We made love right then, only we _did_ want to fight it and couldn't. It was like poison, when sharing it should have only been beautiful, as it was today.

"Bree, you little vixen!" Nayvek teasingly accused. "That's just the kind of thing I would have expected of myself, only I would have _said_ it was on accident when I really fully intended to do it all along." She laughed. "Well then, you got to experience the joys of marital love two full weeks before me? Are you pregnant?'

"No, Nayvi," Breetuk reassured. "Not yet. We're going to wait a little while."

"Good luck with that, Bree," Nayvek said. "After today, I understand why most Urgralgra couples have their first cub within nine or ten months of getting married. As soon as she's fertile, there's just no chance the female wouldn't conceive with how _much_ of himself her ram can give. I'm so glad you waited to get married until I got home so we could always remember this special day and have _this_ conversation right now."

"Absolutely," Breetuk agreed. "Now, let's eat! Before everyone else comes back and finishes it off."


	18. Brawling

18\. Brawling

All four of the newlyweds ate ravenously and quickly finished, whereupon Grintuk contacted Kuldr, which was easier than trying to identify Varhog out of the hundreds of Urgralgra minds. Kuldr passed the message along to Black Thunder and before long, throngs of Urgals were heading back to the village square. Breetuk, Nayvek, and Pultog's friends congregated on them and finally extended their enthusiastic congratulations. More than one of Breetuk's young, single girlfriends admired Grintuk's amazing physique, something Breetuk inevitably noticed and understood.

The second round of feasting didn't take long and, as expected, when the fighting began, the villagers first wanted to see the two male Urgralgra Dragon Riders face each other. Varhog and Grintuk accepted the challenge, and Varhog dressed down as Grintuk was, each then removing their pants so they were wearing their loin cloths, which—thanks to their time with the Riders—were slightly more involved than what most Urgralgra rams wore.

"No blood, please," Willow requested.

"Or broken bones," Breetuk added.

"Nothing a little magic can't heal," Varhog said, giving Grintuk an eager grin. "We want to give you some good entertainment." Then he addressed Grintuk, "Been a while, hasn't it?" Grintuk nodded. "Think you're better now?"

Grintuk shrugged. "Probably not. We'll see. You might have gotten soft now that you're a sire."

"Not a chance," Varhog defied, backing into the opening inside the crowd, where he and Grintuk began circling each other.

Willow knew as she watched that this fight would be nothing like when she and Varhog fought. Grintuk was the closest match Varhog had when it came to strength, and she guessed they would use that brute force to its fullest extent. She grinned up at Breetuk—who was standing right next to her—in eager anticipation, and her sister returned the smile.

As if on some predetermined cue, the rams lowered their heads and charged one another with ferocious strength. Willow winced as their hard, horned heads smashed together, neither trying to dodge. They _wanted_ to collide. As they struggled, locking their arms around the other's shoulders, neither gained any ground. Their heads lowered more and more until they reached down to steady themselves, their bare feet digging into the ground as they strained to move one another.

When it became clear that they wouldn't be able to overpower one another in this manner, Grintuk twisted his neck, using the tip of his horn, which did not yet curl back into the first loop, to snare the top of Varhog's nearest horn where it curved above the top of his head. At the same moment, Grintuk reached up and wrenched Varhog to the ground by yanking on his shoulder.

With his head down and his eyes toward the ground, Varhog didn't see that Grintuk had snared his horn until it was too late, and the additional torque on his neck forced him to his back. The crowd bellowed its approval as Grintuk immediately tried to kneel on him, but Varhog sprang up like a cat, twisting to face his foe.

Varhog roared his displeasure, and Grintuk defiantly returned it. Though it was terrifying, Willow couldn't help but laugh breathlessly. If this were a fight to the death, she would be truly alarmed, for both rams were more than capable of killing the other. But the crowd continued its thunderous support, urging the two fighters on.

Varhog let Grintuk charge and rather than dodge him completely, he circled around only enough to pin Grintuk's arms down from behind. After trying to quickly throw off Varhog's arms, which was unsuccessful, Grintuk defensively tensed every muscle in his torso to keep his bones from being crushed under Varhog's impossible strength.

They stood locked together for a time as Grintuk tried to free himself. He couldn't use his head to bash backwards because Varhog was a foot shorter than he. He tried to force Varhog's arms apart, but there was no way with his own pinned down as they were. Varhog employed his more powerful chest, back, and bicep muscles, and while Grintuk's shoulders and triceps—which were the ones he mainly relied on to break free—were huge, they were not as strong proportionately.

Finally, out of desperation—as he began to tire from keeping his muscles tense enough to protect his body—Grintuk bent his wrists as much as he could, reaching his huge hands back to dig his long, strong fingers into Varhog waist and gouging as deeply as he could with his sharp black fingernails. Rivulets of dark blood spilled out of eight wounds in Varhog's sides, and he snarled in pain, jumping back.

Willow's stomach clenched in concern, and she unconsciously clutched Var more tightly in her arms. Though she knew Varhog wasn't in mortal danger, she still worried that he was injured. That was the last straw for Varhog. Willow sensed that up until that moment, he had been fighting to give a good show, but she suddenly felt him switch to his fighting mind, his eyes becoming emotionless and deadly. Grintuk also sensed the change and immediately assumed his own fighting mind.

They circled each other once more, searching for openings and indifferently filtering all noise and sensory stimuli. Varhog sensed his opportunity when Breetuk's voice reached Grintuk through his unaffected detachment. She cheered for him, and though it didn't completely distract him, Grintuk focused on it for a split second longer than he should have.

Varhog charged, veering to the side at the last moment and reaching up to snag one of Grintuk's horns. Varhog wrenched him to the ground, and though Grintuk tried to react by catching Varhog around the waist, Varhog knocked his arms away. In the same instant that Grintuk landed on his chest, Varhog was on top of him, pinning him to the ground with one leg angled across his back and the other extended out to counter the force of Grintuk's struggles.

Grintuk tried to grab that leg, but Varhog put his knee down on Grintuk's elbow to prevent him. He held Grintuk's horns in either hand, pulling dangerously to one side and twisting Grintuk's neck at an awkward angle. Few humans would have been able to snap an Urgal ram's neck, but Varhog could have.

Grintuk fought admirably, working his free arm under his body and pushing his torso up with Varhog on his back, but Varhog sat over his ankle, forcing Grintuk's lower half down to prevent him from getting his legs underneath him. Grintuk tried to roll away from where Varhog had him pinned, but Varhog pulled even harder on his horns, making the attempted evasion more dangerous. If Grintuk had persisted, he would have merely aided Varhog in breaking his own neck.

Grintuk could have continued on longer, but he apparently decided it would be pointless. "I submit," he snarled in frustration. "Let me up, _brother_." The crowd cheered their approbation, calling for more.

Varhog released his hold and sprang up. Grintuk also leaped up, shaking his whole body out while cocking his head from side to side. He swung his arms, stomped his feet, and forcefully blew out his breath to release the tension of being defeated and now being expected to stop.

Willow could understand how rams once fought to the death to prove their valor. Both Varhog and Grintuk were so riled up that it took them several moments to regain control and calm their frenzied bodies. Willow was sure two regular Urgralgra rams would have simply had at it once again—even if only for a few minutes—to release some of the pent-up tension. She remembered how Varhog had acted after the uncomfortable incident with Raygog, likewise displaying admirable self-restraint to diffuse the urge to crush and kill.

Varhog finally just walked over to Willow. "Heal me?" he curtly asked, and she did so without comment. "Thank you. May I hold him?" he then requested, reaching out for his son. Willow handed Var over, knowing Varhog would never harm him. Varhog smiled at his baby, lifting him high above his head.

"Hello, little fellow," Varhog crooned in a sing-song way one never would have believed possible from such a deep-voiced male. Already his tension was gone, and the baby grinned at his father, jabbering delightedly at his high position. Varhog lowered him to his face, snuggling him right over it and pretending to gobble Var's tummy. The baby squealed, giggling loudly.

Varhog's deep chuckle blended with his little son's sounds of joy, and he said to Willow, "I guess I still have it in me."

Willow laughed. "I never doubted it, sweetheart. Too bad Grintuk doesn't have such a natural outlet."

Grintuk was close enough to overhear, for he had made his way to Breetuk. "I've been wanting to fight _you_ , Willow," Grintuk admitted. "As soon as I heard you bested a Kull, I've wanted to see if you could bring me down."

"I'll fight you," Willow said. "As long as you promise not to crush my arms. I don't fancy having my arms shattered, nor do I desire to heal a dying ram as he chokes to death on his mangled throat, since I _can_ evade such an attack. That's the only way I bested Nar Garzhvog. He actually brought about his own defeat. If I can bring you to your knees, I'll let go."

"Are you sure, Willow?" Varhog asked in concern. "We've just returned from a couple of _very_ exhausting weeks, not to mention that you nearly bled to death only two months ago."

"Thank you for your concern, sweetheart," Willow replied. "You know how little effort I actually put into besting a ram. It's almost completely mental. And my arms are stronger than ever. We'll have to see if I can even reach his back without something to spring from. If not, he'll quickly grab me in some inescapable hold and that will be the end of it."

"I'd rather be the one doing that," Varhog muttered.

Willow grinned, as did Grintuk. "Would you like to go first?" she impishly asked. "Get me warmed up? I'll even let you catch me at least once."

Varhog's eyes lit up in anticipation. "Now that you mention it, it _has_ been a long while since we fought, hasn't it? I'm sure everyone would enjoy that." He looked at Grintuk. "Let me face Willow first. You'll no doubt like seeing her bring me down before once again facing defeat, and the baby will help you calm down like nothing else could. Want to hold him?" He extended Var out to Grintuk, who gladly accepted him.

Breetuk was holding Will, and she and Grintuk then sat on the ground so those behind them would have a clearer view of the fight.

Willow removed the light shirt she wore over her supportive undershirt and let her hair down. "That's as far as I go," she murmured to Varhog as he watched her.

"Far enough for me," Varhog returned, grinning. "I can imagine the rest easily enough." Willow's arms and shoulders were more muscular than ever thanks to the extra demands of carrying around twenty pound twins all day, and Varhog commented, "You're getting so strong. Soon you'll be able to beat me in an arm wrestle."

Willow laughed and rejoined, "Yes, and soon the rams will have the cubs."

Varhog chuckled and took her hand. "Ready?" he asked.

"Absolutely."

The crowd of Urgralgra had remained in place, not sure if they needed to make another request or if the Riders would decide on another pair and begin on their own. When Willow and Varhog walked into the opening, a deafening roar rent the air.

Varhog smiled at Willow. "They _are_ excited. Remember the day we fought in front of the wolves?"

"In the snow? Of course. How could I forget?"

"Let's give them a good show," he said. "Like that, but without quite as much innuendo."

"Deal," she agreed, anticipating this as much as Varhog. They faced one another, and she partially entered her fighting mind, still wanting to tease him and knowing she would let him catch her a few times before subduing him. Smiling joyfully, Willow thought, _Love you, Yelloweyes._

 _Love you more, Eartheyes,_ Varhog returned.

Willow shook her head. "May the best Urgal win!" she shouted in Urgralish, which earned her a rumble of approval and amusement.

Varhog grinned and lunged for her. She sidestepped him, spun, and wrapped her arms around his waist from behind. The crowd loved it. "Gotcha," she whispered for his ears only, and he chuckled.

Willow released him, dancing away as he twisted and lurched after her. She dodged him a couple more times, teasing him in a new way after both of his efforts. On his fourth attempt, she acted like she would evade him but intentionally waited too long, and Varhog crushed her to his chest.

"Oops," she said in feigned surprise as she stared up at him. "How did that happen?"

"You're impossible, Eartheyes," Varhog said in amusement, mentally adding, _You're not even trying this time, and I'm already getting aroused._

 _You had best be careful, sweetheart,_ Willow warned, laughing. _You're only in your underwear._

 _Good point,_ Varhog agreed. _Dance with me a moment?_

"Mmm," she murmured. _Gladly._ She got on his feet as he took her right hand in his left, holding it next to his chest. She wrapped her left arm around his back and laid her face against his chest as he started humming their song—the elven song, which he hummed or sang so often that she simply referred to it as 'our song.' He began swaying with her from side to side and turning in a slow circle.

The crowd whooped their approval of this unusual turn of events, and Willow giggled. _This is actually perfect,_ she admitted. _I let you catch me because my milk was getting ready to let down._

Varhog laughed deep in his chest, and Willow smiled blissfully in response. _That's new,_ he observed. _I thought you were pressing into me more forcefully than normal._

 _I had to stop it somehow without simply grabbing my chest in front of everyone._ She laughed again as his deepened. _But I'm starting to get sleepy,_ she admitted. _How much longer should I carry on?_

 _As long as you want, Eartheyes,_ Varhog replied. _The crowd is loving it, and they'll love this too. Let me kiss you. Most of them will think they've got a better show coming than what they're already getting._

 _Gladly,_ she repeated, turning her face up toward his. No matter how many times they had kissed, Willow's stomach still clenched nervously as Varhog lowered his handsome face and brought his lips to hers. At the first touch, the crowd let out a collective, approving, "Oooooh," but there was an underlying current of concern—especially, Willow guessed, from mothers with small children present—as their kiss lengthened and she wrapped her arm around his neck, stretching onto her toes.

She felt Varhog's mouth turn up in a smile as he said, _This isn't helping the arousal problem. I'm letting you go._

 _If you must,_ Willow said with exaggerated disappointment. Varhog raised his face, his eyes displaying the same regret as he spun her under his arm and released her hand. Her smile hadn't left her face, nor had his, which made their fight seem so much less threatening. Willow knew most of the Urgralgra in Varhog's clan—who weren't around them as much as his immediate family—were again surprised by their obvious demonstration of love.

Willow didn't have to fully enter her fighting mind before his next lunge to assume her usual position of victory, wrapping her arms around his neck in a completely different kind of embrace. She laid her cheek against the back of his neck and focused on his mind, regretting that she had to cause Varhog even the smallest amount of discomfort as his body struggled to replenish its air supply.

Because of her arms' increased strength, Varhog fell to his knees more quickly, and Willow instantly released her hold to the deafening cheers of the onlookers. She stepped around him, and since she knew better than to press his face into her chest, she knelt in front of him and pressed hers into him.

"I love you, Varhog," she whispered. "I know your tribe loves that, but I'm always sorry whenever I have to feel you suffer."

Varhog wrapped his arms around her. "Still as incredible as ever, though you've grown and borne two huge cubs in the intervening months since our last fight. I immediately felt the difference in the strength of your arms. Are you still going to face Grintuk?"

"Sure," Willow said. "I'm not any more tired than when we began, but we had best be quick. The babies will soon need to eat, and I doubt I'll repeat my earlier tactic with Grintuk."

"I hope not," Varhog agreed, standing and lifting her to her feet. "I love you so much, beautiful woman. How did I ever win you?"

"Through many long years of friendship, loyalty, and above all, respect," Willow replied, quoting words he had once spoken himself, when he had implored his young nephew to respect females. Then, with a teasing smile, she added, "It doesn't hurt that you have such an amazing body. The first time I fought you without any clothes on save your loin cloth, I knew I'd never be satisfied with anything less." He chuckled and swept her into his arms as he walked back over to the others.

"That looks easier than ever for you," Grintuk observed. "I'm regretting that I asked to face you. You'll surely defeat me."

"Perhaps," Willow allowed. Above her Varhog nodded confidently, and Willow glanced up at him with a grin. "He stands a chance, sweetheart," she insisted. "He can enter a fighting mind like you and _unlike_ father. Hmm," she mused, finishing to Varhog, _It may be good preparation on the off chance I ever face the king._

Varhog grimaced. _Please don't suggest that, Willow. I can't bear the thought. But I suppose you're right. I would say be careful, but I know I don't need to. Maybe 'have fun' is more fitting._ He changed his expression to a grin and set her down.

"Ready, big brother?" Willow cheerfully asked Grintuk, and he nodded. She jogged into the circle, for her babies had heard her and begun searching for her. She knew she didn't have much time.

The Urgals let out another roar of anticipation as Grintuk followed her. Willow observed him from her fighting mind, which recalled her fight with Nar Garzhvog, calculating how she would adjust for Grintuk's slightly shorter height and determining when she would need to dodge. Willow was more concerned about reaching his back, for there was nothing in the opening to provide the needed boost and he was two feet taller than she.

Willow began circling as he did, weighing different possibilities with detached efficiency. Grintuk made his first move, and she neatly dodged him, spinning to face him once more and dancing back as he swiped out with a huge arm. Though she was so far removed from her emotions, Willow wore a confident, teasing smile on her lips, which infuriated Grintuk, who roared and lunged again with alarming speed and force.

The moment presented itself, and Willow surprised even herself as she automatically acted upon it. While Grintuk was still scrambling to regain his balance after missing her, she grabbed onto his arm under his bicep, using his momentum of righting himself and her own of spinning to dodge him to swing herself up to his back. She caught the back of one horn with her free hand and immediately pulled herself up.

Before Grintuk could attempt to remove her hands, they were tucked into her armpits, arms locked around his neck. Willow assumed the tightest stranglehold she ever had, for her arms were stronger than ever before and she knew Grintuk, as a Kull, had a thicker neck than Varhog's. But even so, Grintuk's neck was not as strong as Garzhvog's, who was older and had proportionately larger horns. Because of this, Grintuk succumbed much more quickly than Garzhvog had.

-:-:-

Grintuk had never faced Willow before. On the Isle they always just assumed she wouldn't be able to reach his back, since he was a full foot taller than Varhog and she already had to jump to get on _his_ back. Grintuk wasn't prepared for the speed with which her attack took effect. He grasped for her, but the bulging muscles of his arms, shoulders, and back prevented him from reaching the middle of his back where she was curled, nor could he fit his thick fingers between her arms to remove one. He struggled in vain to fill his lungs as his body screamed for oxygen. When denied, his muscles rebelled, burning painfully in their need.

He now understood why Varhog always fell to his knees so quickly. Before experiencing it personally, Grintuk always secretly believed Varhog was going easy on Willow in an effort to build her confidence and because he loved her so much. But he saw he had been mistaken. There was nothing he could do. No matter how powerful he was, he was quickly rendered weak and useless. Those muscles simply could not perform their intended functions without blood flow replenishing the needed nutrients.

Grintuk didn't even think to crush her arms, as Willow implied might happen. Instead, he collapsed to his knees, desperate for air and relying on her promise that she would immediately release him, which she did. He gasped in a mighty breath, falling forward to his hands.

Willow skirted around, kneeling down in front of him. "Grintuk, are you all right?" she worried. "That was the first time you've ever felt that deprivation. Varhog must be more used to it. You nearly blacked out."

"I'm fine, Willow," he assured her. "I always thought Varhog was going easy on you, but I was wrong. It's unbelievable how quickly oxygen deprivation incapacitates someone. I'm embarrassed. Did Garzhvog fall that fast?"

"No, Grintuk," Willow said, able to give him a small smile now that she was sure he was well. "His neck is even thicker than yours, and he raged around in a circle for five minutes trying to throw me off. My arms weren't as strong then. When he fell to his knees, he had the idea to strike at my arms, not thinking I would be able to anticipate it and evade him. I did at the last second so he wouldn't be able to alter the course of his fist, and he crushed his own throat. It was sickening. I can still hear the crunch. Did that satisfy your curiosity?"

Grintuk rasped a painful laugh. "Aye, sister. Thank you for humbling me. I was in need of it after this afternoon. _That_ victory made me feel nearly invincible."

"As it should," Willow approved. "I'm glad you enjoyed your new bride. Shall we return to them?"

"Yes," Grintuk agreed, rising slowly. He would have helped Willow to her feet, but she was more capable than he at the moment and stood up before him.

"Do you need to lean on my head?" she quipped as he towered above her. "I can support you over to them."

"You females are so amusing," Grintuk said, chuckling. "Always thinking of ways to make us laugh. I think I can manage, thank you."

"Certainly," Willow said, smiling up at him as they walked back to the group.

-:-:-

Willow's triumph delighted the audience, just as one would expect. Now that the Urgralgra had provided a few rounds of entertainment, the crowd took up a chant of "Firesword, Firesword," to lure Eragon away from the spectators. Murtagh and Hanin pushed him out, and he laughed.

"What would you have me do?" Eragon called in Urgralish, which also pleased the onlookers. "I can perform one of my famous juggling acts." The crowd laughed in approval. Eragon soon learned that they didn't care how he fought, only that they wanted to see the Riders fight.

"I'm best with the sword," Eragon said. "Who will face me?" There were calls for Murtagh to join him, so Murtagh did. They fought most admirably to be as entertaining as possible, which wasn't difficult, considering their perfect form, technique, and footwork. Until Varhog had joined them on the Isle, the brothers had been one another's most frequent opponents, and they were as equally matched as they came. The match ended as a draw.

"You were going easy on me," Murtagh griped.

"No, brother," Eragon insisted. "Have you been practicing in Ilirea? I used to be able to defeat you."

"Some, but not as much as I could have. Perhaps becoming a father has improved more than my good looks," Murtagh joked.

-:-:-

The Riders continued fighting as Hanin joined the dueling. Willow and Varhog had seated themselves next to Grintuk and Breetuk so Willow could feed the twins. Arya, Nasuada, and Maehrí joined them to enjoy a better view of their husbands. Tomath completed the group of Dragon Riders, sitting not far from Willow.

Breetuk looked over at Willow when she let out an enormous yawn, also noticing that Arya looked exhausted. She sat cross-legged with Brom in her lap, leaning forward so he could nurse. Since Brom was laying on her legs, she rested her elbow on her knee and supported her chin in her hand.

Nasuada was in exactly the same position with Lena, and her eyelids drooped just as Arya yawned. Breetuk laughed. "You three look exhausted. Those two weeks of traveling must have taken more out of you than they did the rest of us."

Nasuada blinked, looking over with bleary eyes. She laughed tiredly when she saw Arya in the same position and Willow in Varhog's arms. "Yes," she agreed. "I _am_ exhausted. I'm jealous of Willow right now. If Murtagh were with me, I would require him to sit in the same position so I could fall asleep against him."

"Did you not ever sleep?" Breetuk wondered.

Arya wearily explained, "I don't know about these others, but Brom was so exhausted by the travels that he slept much longer than he normally does at night. My body was used to feeding him at frequent intervals, so my breasts became painfully engorged. He wouldn't even nurse when I tried to offer, and there was nothing to do but ask for Eragon's help, which inevitably led to more interesting things."

"That was exactly our situation," Nasuada agreed. "Good thing Murtagh likes the milk. He didn't have the privilege you Urgals do of nursing for years on end, so he jokes that he's making up for what was denied him as a baby, though I suppose he might not appreciate me saying so."

Willow scoffed. "Of course he would, Your Majesty! Or you don't know your husband. He would have already come up with some smart remark or other. Poor Varhog. He had the honor of nursing _six_ years, and he's now required to help me deal with the copious abundance of milk produced to feed two huge babies. They once slept _five_ hours during the trip. They usually nurse every hour and fully drain my breasts each time. I was dying, it was so painful. And that was after only three hours. I begged Varhog to help, literally with tears in my eyes and no thought of lovemaking because of how miserable I was."

"Not that she had to beg long," Varhog said with a chuckle. "That's one of my favorite ways to help Willow. Grintuk, maybe that's why you've gained no advantage over me in my new fatherhood. I'm still benefitting from the amazing qualities of breast milk. Maybe that's also why Murtagh is now equal to Firesword in swordplay."

Grintuk laughed. "Then I'll never be able to catch up. Even when we do have our first cub," there were several raised eyebrows and questioning looks, "which will not be any time soon," he continued. "No, everyone, Breetuk isn't pregnant, as she teasingly implied earlier today. Though I now wish she was more than ever so I could also enjoy that added benefit. Anyway, even when we do have our first cub, you'll already have at least a year of continued exposure to your secret weapon, and I'm already three years behind. It's no wonder you're nearly the size of a Kull though you're actually not one."

Breetuk found the discussion highly amusing, and she said, "You three will have to get Myrin or any one of my sisters who is currently breastfeeding to show you how to hand express milk from your breasts. There's not much to it. You simply mimic the movements of the baby's mouth and once the milk starts flowing, it's quite easy to remove a large amount very quickly. When your baby is napping or sleeping longer than expected, you can relieve your own suffering. I've seen Myrin fill a cup in five minutes this way. Almost anyone in our village would welcome the chance to drink expressed breast milk or you can drink it yourself. Your mates also sound like they might enjoy a large quantity all at once."

Everyone laughed, and now that they were engaged in a lively conversation, the other women were able to stay awake until their husbands rejoined them. But they didn't fall asleep even then, for the most exciting part of the fighting had just begun.


	19. Dragon Fights

19\. Dragon Fights

At someone's request, the dragons had gotten in on the action, and the circle of onlookers widened considerably as Saphira and Thorn engaged in a thrilling duel, reminiscent of their former battles during the war. Hanin and Maehrí—who were less exhausted than their comrades with babies—cast a ward to protect the crowd from the dragons' blistering flames. The huge bonfires, which had been lit some hours before, were rendered obsolete as the dazzling blue and red fire blazed into the night.

Murtagh dryly commented, "Even our dragons take after our friendly rivalry, don't they, brother?"

"So it appears," Eragon agreed, wincing and rubbing his forearm as Saphira received a nasty bite on her foreleg. She roared in defiance, and Thorn rumbled his amusement, but his amusement didn't last long as Fírnen descended in a deafening thunder of wings. Saphira backed away as her mate took her place, and the two males took up the fight with terrifying ferocity, more equally matched in size and strength, though Saphira wasn't far behind.

Now mesmerizing green flames entwined with the ruby red, filling the bystanders with wonder and fear. Sometimes the bonded dragons seemed almost tame for how well-behaved and intelligent they were, but seeing them engaged in their instinctive rituals reminded everyone, including the Riders, just how deadly their powerful friends were.

Thorn seemed destined to win that night. He threw Fírnen to his back with a decisive jerk of his jaws and sprang onto his belly, digging his sharp claws into the softer flesh and pinning Fírnen's mouth shut with his tail. Fírnen let out a muffled whine of surrender, and Arya absently rubbed her abdomen, as Eragon had his arm.

The emerald and sapphire dragons leaped into the air, and the fight took on a completely different tone as a new opponent descended to face Thorn. His triumphant roar cut short as Tomath's young white dragon flapped to the ground. Thorn dwarfed her, but Snowfire faced him fearlessly.

"This should be interesting," Murtagh observed wryly. "Thorn likes her. Did you know that, Tomath?"

Tomath smiled. "Not really. I mean, she has sometimes admired him but never in detail. For my sake, I suppose."

Murtagh laughed. "You needn't be embarrassed, little brother," he reassured. "It's perfectly normal for dragons to fancy one another. Thorn has waited an awfully long time to bestow his affections on a female."

"Yes, that's not unusual at all. Is it, my love?" Eragon said to Arya. She nodded her agreement at the same time as Varhog and Willow, and they all laughed.

"I hadn't even thought about that," Tomath confessed. "Your four dragons are paired together like you. I suppose I'd better not grow up and marry a female Dragon Rider with a male dragon, or Thorn might end up with a broken heart." All of his older 'siblings' laughed at his joke, and Tomath blushed that he had successfully taken part in the conversation.

"Thorn has kept his feelings strictly in check," Murtagh said. " _That_ is perhaps odder than him liking her. That a dragon would not just mate with the female of his choice if he could match her seems unusual. Our lessons in self-control must have reached him. Or maybe he waited simply because her Rider is so much younger. I'll have to ask him. Whatever the reason, he's getting a firsthand taste of the unfulfilled longing he so patiently endured all the years I wanted to be with my wife." He returned his eyes the dragons, chortling sympathetically. "Snowfire is quick. He can't catch her. But if he could, he'd be able to crush her, wouldn't he?"

Willow observed, "Remarkably like me and Varhog. And our dragons too, though their size difference isn't quite as vast. The first time Varhog and I flew on our own dragons during our engagement, Sunset and Black Thunder tested themselves against each other, and Sunset flirted and teased most shamelessly. Black Thunder was enraged. He almost toasted us."

Varhog grimaced ruefully. "And he heard a good piece of my mind for it. Sunset outflew him on every hand, and he couldn't catch her no matter how he tried. But when it came to speed, she didn't stand a chance. Black Thunder quickly overtook her. Strikingly like Willow and myself, especially when we fight now that we're married. She's insufferably tantalizing. It drives me crazy."

Arya laughed. "That was so sweet earlier, watching you dance together a moment, though the Urgralgra were concerned when you kissed her. Did you sense that? They thought a more interesting show was beginning."

"Aye," Varhog chuckled. "I had the very same thoughts. I even warned Willow. Do none of the rest of you dance together? Surely you do. I'm easily the clumsiest of my brothers."

Eragon's face became thoughtful as he reflected. Murtagh nodded, as did Hanin.

Nasuada murmured, "His Highness is a most graceful dancer." She smiled as Murtagh leaned down and kissed her forehead.

"I thought you were asleep," he said.

"Nearly," Nasuada replied. "You might have to have your turn while I sleep tonight, as Lena usually does." Her smile widened as he raised his eyebrows. When the others, save Eragon and Hanin, laughed knowingly, Murtagh looked up.

"She told you, did she?" he said with an amused grin. "I, who was the most shocked of any to witness the open approach to breastfeeding here in Varhog's village, have become its staunchest supporter. Personally. Fitting, isn't it?" He laughed. "It's tasty. And pleasant to obtain. And usually leads to very nice things, indeed. Why not, so long as my dear wife doesn't object?" He kissed Nasuada again, stroking Lena's cheek as she slept in her mother's arms.

Maehrí reminded them of what they had been discussing before. "Hanin danced with me right after he proposed. And was able to put his shirt back on. Since I removed it so efficiently before he could stop me." She captivated them all with her musical laugh.

"She _is_ quite the expert at removing clothing," Hanin agreed. "Arya, I hope you didn't want that lovely gown back. Maehrí dropped it from the back of her dragon as we ascended toward the heavens. It's probably resting atop the highest pine in Du Weldenvarden, blending in with its perfect color."

"I'll never have need of it again," Arya said with a dismissive laugh. "Have these two newlyweds heard that story?"

"Which story?" Breetuk asked.

Hanin delved into the tale, with helpful corrections from his wife when he got a little carried away.

At one point, Maehrí interjected, "He's not letting on how paralyzingly terrified he was. It was priceless. You would think a Dragon Rider would be more courageous in the sky."

Hanin grinned. "It's true, I fear. I love flying with Vera, but I was pathetically afraid as I tumbled through the air to what felt like my certain death. Eventually some of the other details of that experience returned to my mind and we were able to carry on as one would expect under normal circumstances. Maehrí wanted to make certain our first time was memorable, since we had recently overheard Arya and Willow going on in the most delightfully scandalizing way about all of the pleasures of marital love and how creative they had been. Surely that tops any of the rest of you."

Eragon nodded. "Our first time was on the forest floor."

"Palace bed?" Murtagh added.

"Bedroom," Willow supplied.

"Ours too, if you count the unintentional exchange," Breetuk contributed. "Though if you don't, we might take second place. Today our first time was after jumping off a cliff into Lake Fläm. That was fun."

"Though I think I felt as Hanin did for the few seconds I was aware of what was happening before I was in the water," Grintuk said with a grin. "I can't imagine the prolonged feeling of exhilaration as you plummeted through the air for many minutes."

Eragon chuckled. "You new Riders are fearless. No wonder these two fell for you as they did. It's fun to have some new love in our ranks. Not that our more seasoned feelings are any less potent. Both types of relationships seem equally joyful and passionate. Arya, my love, I'm ashamed to say that I'm the only one who hasn't danced with you in private. What can I have been thinking?"

"I hardly know," Arya quipped.

"Forgive me?" Eragon requested.

"I suppose," Arya said with teasing reluctance. "If you promise not to be so remiss again."

"I swear," Eragon vowed. "Thank goodness for second chances. Well, my friends," he said, returning his attention to the others. "The night is not young, and we've just returned from two weeks of grueling travel. Shall we retire and give ourselves several days to recover before thinking about returning to the Isle?"

"Hear, hear," Murtagh seconded, standing with Nasuada and Lena in his arms.

"You're not even coming back," Eragon reminded.

"Nasuada actually wants to come visit," Murtagh replied, glancing down at his wife, who now _was_ sleeping with her face resting against his shoulder. "She feels it will be easier right now while Lena is still so small and content to always be held. Do you object?"

"Of course not!" Eragon cried.

The others were also standing. Varhog lifted Willow and the babies, just as Murtagh had done. Not wanting to once again be remiss, Eragon dutifully scooped up Arya, who was leaning into his side. She murmured her thanks, closing her eyes as her face drooped into him.

Hanin swept Maehrí into his arms. "Remember last time Varhog and Eragon picked up their wives and I offered to do the same?" She nodded. "I didn't want to be left out this time," he explained, kissing her nose.

Breetuk looked at Grintuk. "Well, handsome?"

Grintuk smiled. "Might as well," he said, likewise lifting her up.

Tomath stayed off to the side a short distance. "Poor Tomath," Willow said. "You always have to put up with the rest of us carrying on like this. Do you want to hold Will so you won't feel left out?"

Tomath grinned and nodded. "I'd be glad to, Willow," he said, walking forward and scooping the baby off of Willow. "But I don't mind all the rest. I'm still really young, but I think it's good to get this kind of perspective for when I begin to anticipate such things. I'm still learning from your examples like I always have."

Willow smiled at Tomath, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder.

Seeing that the Riders were standing and preparing to leave, the rest of Varhog's family approached to bid them goodnight.

"We won't be leaving for some days yet," Eragon reassured Myrintuk and Garzhvog. "We simply want to retire after the long and exhausting demands of our travels. Thank you for accompanying us and for this fantastic celebration today. Please extend our thanks to all who were responsible for our enjoyment."

"We will," Myrintuk promised.

"And thank _you_ for the entertainment you provided," Garzhvog rumbled. "That was the finest fighting I've ever seen. And the dragon rides were wonderful. Such fun memories you created for our people. Watching the dragons fight was awe-inspiring. When a Kull war chief feels to tuck his tail and run, you know you're witnessing a fierce display."

"Indeed," Eragon agreed. "Well, goodnight. We'll surely make our proper goodbyes before we depart." He walked off with Varhog and Hanin in the direction of their huts, Tomath trailing behind.

Garzhvog informed Grintuk and Breetuk that they were more than welcome to use his old hut, which would be vacant that night and for the rest of their intended stay, so Grintuk and Murtagh headed off in the other direction, leaving the rest of the Urgralgra to disperse and make their way back to their homes.


	20. Time Flies

20\. Time Flies

It was only a matter of days before the Riders were ready to return to the Isle of the Eldunarí. Varhog's whole family and most of the villagers gathered to see them off. Myrintuk had tears in her eyes as she embraced her children and their mates, then all of the Riders in turn.

"Make sure you enjoy this time you have with one another," she implored. "You're all in such a special time of life. Your love is so new. Your babies are yet small and young. Cherish them! I know you've heard it before, but time flies so swiftly by and one day—when your youngest baby has grown into a beautiful woman and taken a fine mate—you'll wonder where it all went and how it seems she was born only yesterday. Remember the sleepless nights and the frustrating moments. One day they'll end, and you'll find yourself missing them and how much your young children once needed you. Raise them well and they will continue to fill your lives in your older age—though I suppose you won't be aging like the rest of us—with love and many grandchildren. Come back soon so I can know my grandbabies! I love you all so much! We're so honored the Riders stayed with us for a time and that we could share our ways with such eager learners. Spread the word of how we Urgralgra live so the other races will look on us with more kindness. Goodbye now!"

After many hugs and goodbyes and tears, the Riders finally mounted their dragons and took to the skies. Willow continued crying for a long while after they started flying. _I'm going to miss them so much,_ she said to Varhog. _They're my family—my people—more than any people ever have been._

 _-:-:-_

They traveled in a southeasterly direction, stopping briefly in Ilirea so the queen could attend to certain affairs of state before continuing on their way to the Beors. They once again journeyed southeast at a leisurely pace, arriving in Tronjheim several weeks later.

Orik welcomed the rest of the Riders as jubilantly as he had received Knilf and Bodin. Knilf had wasted no time taking his long-time sweetheart as a mate, with the new reassurance that death would not prematurely part them, though he was a Dragon Rider.

By then, Brom was a fine young lad of six months, sitting up and babbling as eagerly as the twins ever had. Orik was overjoyed to meet the four new babies and visit with some of his favorite people.

During their stay in Tronjheim—which was very comfortable indeed, thanks to the perfect accommodations in the dragonhold above Isidar Mithrim—Murtagh and Nasuada enjoyed their first wedding anniversary. When Orik learned of this, and also that Willow and Varhog's would happen within a week's time, he threw a huge celebration. It had been just over a year since the Riders first stopped in Tronjheim, and they were once again there just after the bounty of the harvest had been gathered in. Their stay in Tronjheim was merry and restful, for which they were grateful after the many weeks of endless flying.

When they finally left, they were refreshed and resolute, knowing they were only a couple of weeks from arriving back on the Isle. Their journey to Hedarth took a week, for flying with four babies and one increasingly pregnant elf was more time-consuming.

From Hedarth to the Isle, their pace slowed even more. The babies were weary and cross about being constantly restricted in their parents' arms. Ten days after leaving the dwarf outpost, the group arrived on the Isle, and the elves who had remained behind rejoiced at their coming.

Maehrí was thirty-five weeks pregnant, which filled the elves with wonder. They had never had the privilege of seeing Arya in her final stages of pregnancy, when the evidence of life within was so undeniable.

Since she was so close to full term, Maehrí was loath to return to Alagaёsia and her native Sílthrim for the birth. She and Hanin sought permission from Eragon to have their dragons return to the mainland to retrieve their parents so both couples could be present for the birth of their grandbaby. Eragon gladly agreed, so Vera and Silvan departed to meet the four elves and carry them back.

-:-:-

All twelve Riders were on the Isle together, and it was different from ever before. Ten of them were married, four of the couples consisting of two Riders: Eragon and Arya, Varhog and Willow, Hanin and Maehrí, and Grintuk and Breetuk. Murtagh was also there with Nasuada, and so were Knilf and his wife Greta. Bodin and Tomath alone remained single, but neither of them minded. Bodin had high hopes that at the next Dwarf Choosing Ceremony the following summer, he would be as fortunate as Hanin and Grintuk had been. Tomath was still so young that he had no intention of soon taking a wife, and he enjoyed the added bustle on the Isle with four babies.

Both Saphira and Sunset each decided the time was right to lay their eggs. Saphira's was a stunning teal blue, just the hue one would expect when mixing her sapphire color with Fírnen's emerald green. The dragon within her egg was a male, and when he did not immediately hatch, his egg was taken to the Cave of the Eldunarí to await the time it would be presented to the races for a Rider Choosing Ceremony. Saphira's egg ended up being slightly larger than her own had been, or about a foot and a half across.

Sunset's egg was a dazzling fuchsia with jagged black streaks all across the surface. Willow and Sunset were both relieved that Sunset and Black Thunder's colors had combined in such a mesmerizing way, rather than the dull brown Willow had once feared. This egg was smaller, since Sunset was nearly five years Saphira's junior, which made it about the size Saphira's egg had been, or approximately a foot in length. The dragon inside was a female, and she was also deposited in the Cave to await the time of her hatching. All of the Riders and their dragons secretly hoped these eggs would wait to one day hatch for their children as they grew. And the fact that Sunset and Saphira could conceive again at the beginning of the next mating season increased the chances that their many eggs might hatch for any future children who joined the Rider's firstborn.

-:-:-

Just as Myrintuk had predicted, time truly did fly by, and the time came for Maehrí's baby to be born. Her labor was perfectly peaceful and gentle, and she brought forth a son—whom they named Nefin, after his father and maternal grandfather—the day Will, Var, and Lena turned five months old. Brom was nearly eight months old by then and crawling everywhere. He made his favorite sound all the time, which of course was 'dada,' much to Eragon's delight, though it often ended up more as 'da da da da da da da.'

Not long after Nefin's birth and about six weeks after arriving on the Isle, Murtagh and Nasuada began the long journey home, feeling the queen should once again be present in Alagaёsia. The Riders were astonished when they realized it would only be a matter of a few more months before all of the rest of them would follow so they could be present in time for the Games.

By this time, Grintuk and Breetuk had been married for three months. All of the growing babies and the birth of the new one made them anxious to begin trying for their own, since they would now be back in Alagaёsia before it was due. They soon learned they had been successful before even trying and that Breetuk was expecting a baby about a month after the Games in Alagaёsia were to begin.

-:-:-

Arya had learned from the Urgralgra the most logical way of introducing adult foods to Brom. In addition to continued, frequent nursing, Brom also enjoyed a wide variety of healthy finger foods, prepared as long stalks he could grasp in his fist and gnaw off at the end. Since the babies were so often together, Will and Var took after their cousin, which is how the Riders all considered their babies. The twins were crawling by the time they were six months, and they ate as voraciously as their mother and father.

Willow was surprised that they continued to nurse as doggedly as ever—every hour on the hour—in addition to the unbelievable amount of solid food they consumed. They grew amazingly fast and by the time they were six months old, they were each a hefty thirty pounds and gaining rapidly, making them larger than most one-year-olds. Brom was a slight eighteen pounds in comparison and so much slenderer, though he was not far behind the twins in height.

They played together beautifully, which Arya assured them was uncommon with babies so young, but they seemed as friendly as their parents. The twins were never too rough with Brom, somehow sensing they must be gentler with him than with one another, though they wrestled each other as seriously as any adult Urgralgra rams might. But their favorite opponent was their father.

As Willow had predicted, they also began making word-like sounds around the same time as Brom, though they were a few months younger. They too began with dada, which was common for most babies. They quickly added 'mama,' which thrilled Willow, and they acted as if they knew who was who and how to refer to them.

Varhog played tirelessly with his sons, and it was _his_ most beloved pastime as well. They had a few favorite games, which Eragon also used. One of them was for Varhog to lie on his back on the ground and pretend to be sleeping. Whenever their father was on the floor, the twins inevitably abandoned any other activity they might be engaged in, unless it was nursing, in which case they simply finished all the faster so they could join their dada. They would crawl over to Varhog and tumble all around on him while he closed his eyes and stayed still until the twins almost thought he _was_ asleep. They would pat his face, pull on his horns, and blow on his neck, calling, "Dada 'wake!" Varhog remained admirably unresponsive, though many of the twins' antics tickled him. Right at the moment they least expected, he would quickly grab them, tickle them all over, and gently grapple with them to many squeals and giggles of delight, which blended with Varhog's low snuffles and grunts. Willow couldn't help but laugh right along with her sons at the adorable exchange every time it happened.

-:-:-

One day Varhog thought up a new game after first engaging in another of their favorites. The twins were eight months old and had started walking more than crawling only a few days earlier. They were saying many words and even combining some, which was very early compared to most babies but right in line with their determined vocalizations all their lives. Varhog was reading a scroll on the sofa in their living quarters, which the Riders had expanded to be more accommodating for family life. They now had small kitchen areas so the families didn't always need to make their way to the Great Hall for each meal.

Willow was in the kitchenette, which was in plain view of the sofa, preparing a snack. The boys toddled over to Varhog, and Will cried, "Pway dada!"

Varhog set the scroll on an end table and grinned at his sons. "You want to play? I'd love to play! What shall we start with?"

Var looked thoughtful before deciding, "Get 'oo!" This is how they referred to the game of chase, where Varhog would crawl around behind as they stumbled along and playfully warn, 'I'm going to get you!' to shrieks of anticipation and delight.

"Get you it is!" Varhog declared. "Are you ready?" The boys giggled and turned to wobble away as quickly as their stocky legs would carry them. Varhog slid to the floor on his hands and knees, beginning to snuffle and paw at the ground. "I'm going to get you!" he grunted as he started after the boys. As expected, they shrieked in delight and first headed straight to Willow's legs.

"Mama!" Will cried. "Dada get 'oo!"

"I hope he gets me," Willow replied, grinning over her shoulder at Varhog. "But I think he's coming for you. Quickly boys! Run away so he can't get you!"

The boys needed no further prompting. They tottered away, passing dangerously close to Varhog, who swiped toward the boys and intentionally missed. They screeched, holding hands as they staggered toward the sofa and started around behind it. Varhog chased them around and around, occasionally catching them with cries of "Got you!" only to let them down again and carry on once more. When it was clear the boys were starting to tire from their extensive exercise, though Varhog could have carried on indefinitely, he returned to the sofa and invited them over.

"Shall we think of a new game now?" he suggested as they held onto his knees. "Here, let's see if mother can find us. Climb up here, Var. Will, you sit here. Now, shhh. We mustn't let mama know where we are."

Willow clearly heard everything he said and smiled to herself. The boys were giggling, though they were trying to be secretive, and they each made their own shushing sound each time Varhog did. When Willow turned to move their snack to the table, she laughed. Varhog had pulled the small throw off the back of the sofa and spread it over the boys. It covered his face, but the top of his head and his horns stuck out. The blanket was a wriggling mass as the boys squirmed underneath, only reaching down to Varhog's knees.

He whispered to the boys, "Call for mama. Say, 'Mama, come find us.'"

Willow's heart ached at the precious scene as she heard little voices softly say, "Mama! Mama! Fi' me."

She played right along. After setting the food down, she said in mock consternation, "Oh my goodness! Where could Will and Var be? They were right here a moment ago." More giggling sounded from underneath the blanket, and Varhog once again made a shushing noise, which was followed by the twins' approximation.

Willow went to the table. "Could they be under the table?" She moved a chair loudly so they would hear. "No, not here. Hmm. Where are they? In the cupboard?" She opened and closed a low cupboard then said, "Nope. Wow, those boys sure are good at hiding. I wonder if they went to the bedroom." She stomped across the floor, and the boys giggled again. Their wriggling was pulling the blanket down, and soon Varhog's eyes were visible. She smiled at him, her expression full of adoration. She loved seeing him play with their sons. He was such a loving father.

"Nope, not the bedroom," Willow continued. "Wait, what's this! This wasn't here before. Hmm, I wonder what could be under this blanket." She walked over to the sofa and grabbed an edge of the blanket, quickly pulling it up and exclaiming in exaggerated amazement at her discovery. "There you are! I thought I lost you! What a fantastic hiding place! I had no idea you were under there!"

The boys clapped their hands in delight, sliding off the couch to grab onto Willow's legs. She knelt down, and they hugged her at the same time, planting sweet kisses on her face, complete with perfect smacking sounds. She laughed affectionately and returned the kisses, nibbling at their chubby cheeks.

"I love you, Will," she said in the same sing-song tone she had been using all along. "I love you, Var," she echoed, turning her face toward him. "Isn't it so much fun playing with dada?"

Var said, "Wuv oo," which meant 'love you.'

With a huge grin Will added, "Pway dada!" They each had two teeth on their bottom gums, and Willow loved seeing them each time they smiled.

"That's right," she agreed. "Play with dada. I love you. You two are so clever. And so big! Look how big you are now! Are you hungry? I made us a snack."

"Eat!" they both cried. That was one word they knew perfectly. They tottered over to the table and climbed up into their chairs, where they could reach the table by kneeling.

"Would you like to join us, sweetheart?" Willow asked Varhog.

"Certainly," he said, reaching out to pull her up while he stood. "But first I want _my_ kisses. I heard you hope I'd come get you." He grinned as he wrapped his arms around her. "Wish granted."

Willow also smiled. "How could I forget?" She stretched onto her toes, circling her arms around his neck and bestowing three small kisses on each of his cheeks. "Better?"

"Almost." Varhog gently kissed her lips, lingering a moment. The boys noticed.

Will created his longest sentence yet, confidently declaring, "Dada wuv mama."

Willow smiled against Varhog's mouth. "They're so amazing," she said as she pulled back.

"Like you," Varhog agreed. He looked over Willow's head and responded to his son, "That's right, Will. Dada loves mama very much. So much it hurts sometimes."

Will looked confused. "Owie?"

Varhog chuckled. "Not that kind of hurt, honey. You'll understand one day. Shall we eat?"

"Eat!" Will and Var cried again. Willow and Varhog laughed and sat down to enjoy the meal as a family.

-:-:-:-

* * *

 **A/N:** There is brief mention of a mature love scene near the end of the following chapter.


	21. Family Time on the Isle

21\. Family Time on the Isle

Around that same time, just before Brom turned one, Arya began to feel a desperate longing to fly alone with Fírnen. After confessing her feelings, she said to Eragon, "I truly think the last time I did was when we flew here to the city after I arrived on the Isle. How long has that been? Nearly eighteen months? All the time we flew in Alagaёsia, we rode together. Before I came here, I could barely fly at all because of how cold I always was. And ever since Brom was born, I haven't wanted to leave for long, knowing he would soon want to nurse again. Would you mind if I left for a brief time? Less than an hour?"

"Of course not, my love," Eragon replied. "Brom and I will have a wonderful time, won't we sweetheart?" he said to Brom as his son walked over to him. Eragon picked him up and tossed him above his head, which earned him a delighted squeal.

"Let me nurse him before I go, then I'll get back just in time for his nap," Arya suggested.

Eragon handed Brom to Arya, and she snuggled him close as she went to the sofa. Brom curled around her, resting his head on her shoulder. The closer he got to one year, the more verbal he became, and his communication skills were now superior to the twins'.

"Have mama's miwk," Brom hopefully requested.

"Of course, darling," Arya lovingly replied. "Mama loves you so much."

"I wuv you, mama," Brom said. Arya smiled at him and kissed his cheek, which seemed to shimmer faintly, as if filled to bursting with energy.

Eragon joined them on the sofa. "Watching Brom interact with you while you nurse him is one of my favorite times," he told Arya.

Arya smiled as Brom looked over, giving Eragon a proud grin, which revealed four, tiny white teeth. "Bwom dwink mama's miwk!" he declared, patting her breasts.

Eragon grinned. "Yes, sweetheart. You most certainly will. Mama is the most beautiful woman in the world. Can you say 'pretty'? Mama is pretty?"

Brom dutifully attempted, "Mama is pwetty."

"Exactly, my boy," Eragon approved, chuckling as Brom turned his attention back to Arya and began his meal. "I understand. That's what I always do when presented with such a temptation."

Arya laughed, and Eragon then asked, "Do his teeth hurt you, my love? I've sometimes noticed indentations in your skin when he finishes."

"No, Eragon," Arya replied. "When he nurses, his tongue covers his bottom gums. Or teeth now, I suppose. So he holds my nipple between his tongue and upper teeth, but it's not like biting because he isn't bringing his teeth together. When his teeth were coming in, he sometimes clenched down because his gums ached but never with the intention of hurting me, though it certainly _does_ hurt."

"I can imagine," Eragon said, watching Brom stroke Arya's cheek before reaching his hand under her shirt and stroking her other breast. "Why does he do that?" Eragon asked.

"Do you mean pat my other breast?" Arya clarified, and Eragon nodded. "It helps my milk let down faster so he doesn't have to wait as long."

"Clever," Eragon said. "I can't believe he's almost one. He's talking amazingly these days. Does that have something to do with the magic of the elves? I worried somewhat when it seemed the twins were passing him up with speech, but now he's far ahead of them. I remember something Rhunön once told me that elven children have special gifts of grace and power. I wondered if our children would, or if their human inheritance would interfere with that."

"He's getting more graceful every day," Arya said. "And I've already seen instances where he almost unintentionally used magic to improve his surroundings. He once healed a small flower he accidentally crushed while walking with me through the forest. He used no words but simply bent over and held his hand over it. When he moved his hand, the flower was whole. I was stunned."

"That's amazing," Eragon agreed. "Where was I?"

"Overseeing training," Arya replied, returning her attention to Brom and gently running her fingers through his hair. "Isn't it funny how his hair went blond? It's so light that it almost looks white. I wonder where that came from."

"Did Evandar have silver hair?" Eragon wondered.

"Yes," Arya replied. "Perhaps that's where. I wonder if it will stay this way or go dark again. Was your hair ever lighter?"

"I'm not sure," Eragon said. "If it was, Garrow never mentioned it. Maybe it was. Brom's has also taken on some of my hair's curliness."

"I love that," Arya said, smiling as she continued stroking Brom's silky blond curls. "He looks like an angel with his fair hair, green eyes, and faintly shimmering skin. He's so exquisite." She looked right at Brom's eyes. "You're so precious, my darling."

Brom pulled away to give his mother a milky grin. "Mama is pwetty."

Arya laughed softly. "Thank you, sweetheart. Would you like more?"

"Yes, mama," Brom politely said. "Mowe pwease."

Arya lifted him so she could lay him across her body in the other direction. As he latched himself on, Brom lifted his small hand to her face, and she raised her hand, holding his to her cheek.

"Myrintuk was perfectly right when she warned us how quickly time would pass," Arya wistfully said. "We'll soon be leaving to journey back to Ilirea so we can be present for the Games. We should probably give ourselves at least six weeks, if not more, with how active the babies are."

"That means we would need to leave in just over two months, doesn't it?" Eragon said.

"Yes, but it seems like we only just got back, though Maehrí's baby is now three months old. It's going so quickly," she despaired. "Already Brom is walking and talking so well. He seemed so huge compared to Nefin after he was born."

"And we'll soon have two new babies join the Riders' children," Eragon commented. "Breetuk and Greta are both due this summer, and then the number of cousins will increase to seven. But you seem sad, my love."

"Brom's not a baby anymore," Arya explained. "I mean, in a way he is, but he's also getting so big and changing so much. I love each new phase he enters, and he's so much fun, but I just wonder if he's the only baby I'll ever be able to enjoy. When our lives are so long, a few months at the very beginning is but the blink of an eye."

"We'll have more, Arya," Eragon firmly said. "I'm sure of it. You once promised you would explain how we can increase our odds of having a daughter next. Would you now?"

"If you would like," Arya said. "It all has to do with the sperm that fertilizes the female reproductive cell. So it's actually up to you, Eragon. There are two different types of sperm. One carries the information, which, when joined with the egg, will grow into a male child. The other would create a female. There are certain differences in each type of sperm. The sperm that would result in a male are smaller and therefore faster, but they're also weaker and can't survive as long inside the female's body. The other sperm—those that would create a daughter—are larger and heavier but also heartier, which allows them to survive longer. The theory suggests that if you desire a son, you time intercourse as close to the time the woman expects to ovulate, thereby allowing the faster, male-producing sperm to reach their destination first."

Eragon quickly caught on. "So to improve our chances of having a daughter, we would time intercourse further away from the time you expected to ovulate, allowing the female-producing sperm a chance to arrive and giving the male-producing sperm a chance to die off. Is that right?"

"Exactly," Arya approved. "The trouble is, I've never had a menstrual cycle and conceiving Brom was such a surprise that I never even noticed the signs indicating my fertility. If I did notice such changes, how would I know how long they would persist before the moment of ovulation? Not knowing these details would make it more difficult to get the timing right. A human or Urgralgra female might have a perfect knowledge of how many days she is fertile and would therefore know the best times to try for either sex. We don't have that luxury. It probably doesn't help that your semen is so often inside of me that even if I did begin to ripen in fertility, I might not be able to distinguish my own fluid from yours. They're similar for very good reason. But that won't soon change."

"Then we'll just have to hope for the best," Eragon said. "But I feel certain we'll have more children, Arya. And if we did have another son next, then Brom would have a brother right next to him and that would also be wonderful."

"I won't lose faith, Eragon," Arya promised. "We've gained so much by trusting that things will work out for the best. I know it will continue working for us."

"Good," Eragon said, reaching out to stroke her cheek. "Have I told you recently how beautiful you are?"

"Wasn't it only a few minutes ago?"

"So long!" he cried. "Arya, you're the most beautiful woman in existence."

"Thank you, darling," she said with a tender smile. "I'm glad you think so."

"I know so, Arya," Eragon replied. "My belief has solidified into certain, unwavering knowledge."

"Varhog would disagree," Arya reminded him. "And Hanin. And Grintuk. And Knilf."

"True, I suppose," Eragon allowed.

"But your opinion is the only I care about when it comes to that topic."

Eragon grinned. "You know, I seem to also remember that we were going to either precede or follow that lesson you just gave me with a demonstration. Is that what your memory recollects?"

"Whether it does or not, I'm certainly not opposed," Arya assured him. "I think Brom is done, and he'll happily play for a time while I go fly with Fírnen. When I get back and he's asleep, I'll be your willing prisoner."

Eragon's grin broadened. "What a promise. Well then, don't take too long."

"I won't," Arya vowed. To Brom she said, "All done?"

"Yes, mama," Brom said. "Bwom pway dada!"

"That's right, darling," Arya replied. "Dada's so excited to play with you. Mama will be gone with Fírnen for a time, but I'll soon return."

"Sa-feewa go bye-bye too?" Brom worried.

"No, my boy," Eragon said with a laugh. "Saphira will stay with us. We can play with her right away if you'd like. She'd love to see you!" He accepted Brom from Arya, and she gave him a quick kiss.

"I'll be back soon," she promised, going to Fírnen where he and Saphira were snuggled in their groove on the floor. Brom clapped as the green dragon jumped into the air and flew to the high ceilings far above them.

-:-:-

Once the strongest gusts from Fírnen's wings subsided, Eragon set Brom down, and he dashed over to Saphira. Brom greeted Saphira with a happy hug around her large snout, and she lifted her head as he determinedly hung on, craning her neck to set him down on her shoulders. Eragon climbed up behind his small son and held onto him.

"Fwy, Sa-feewa!" Brom cried.

Saphira did what she knew Brom wanted by stretching her wings out. Then she walked around as much as she could in the spacious quarters, pretending to fly with Brom. Brom whooped in delight, spreading his arms wide as he also pretended to fly. Brom loved each of his parents' dragons and played with them as much as he could. He also frequently flew with both of them and already loved the exhilaration of flight, just as Will and Var did.

Brom did amazingly well, and Eragon had a wonderful time with him. They played their favorite games, went potty, ate a snack, read some books, and built towers from blocks. But as the time for Arya's return neared, Brom began to miss her.

"Mama back soon?" he asked, looking above them toward the high ceilings.

"Soon, my boy," Eragon promised, sweeping Brom up to hold high above his head. Brom squealed and reached down toward Eragon's face, so his father lowered him enough that he could grab his beard.

"Ow," Eragon muttered. "Guess it's time for a trim, isn't it, Brom? When it gets longer like this, you can get a better grip. I should probably do that while mother gets you down for your nap. She likes it best shorter, and she promised we would do some interesting things when she returned."

Saphira then said to him, _Arya is actually on her way back, little one. But she asked Fírnen to land some distance from the Great Hall so she could run._

 _Thank you, Saphira,_ Eragon said. To pass the time while they waited, he suggested playing one of their favorite games with Brom. "Shall we tell each other secrets?"

"Secwets!" Brom eagerly agreed, putting his wet lips right in Eragon's ear and whispering gibberish.

Eragon laughed at the ticklish feel and took his turn, whispering next to Brom's small pointed ear, "Brom's the handsomest boy in the world."

Brom giggled and had another turn. Grasping Eragon's beard in either of his hands, he returned his mouth to his father's ear and whispered, "Dada Bwom's favwit."

"I'm your favorite!" Eragon exclaimed. "We really _should_ keep that a secret! What would mama think?"

Brom told another secret before Eragon could. "Mama Bwom's favwit too!"

"Oh good!" Eragon said in pretended relief. "Well then, we just need to keep it a secret from Saphira and Fírnen."

Brom looked concerned. "Bwom wuv Sa-feewa and Fee-nen too."

Eragon laughed, reassuringly stroking Brom's back. He whispered his next words as a secret, "I know, sweetheart. And we _all_ love Brom so much. Brom is _our_ favorite."

Brom rested his head against Eragon's shoulder. "Bwom miss mama. Mama back soon?"

-:-:-

Arya _was_ back, but she remained in the doorway to their quarters, transfixed by Eragon and Brom's tender exchange. She had overheard their secrets game and guessed Eragon hadn't noticed her because of his intent focus on Brom. Eragon's back was to her as he snuggled Brom to him and began singing. Brom's eyelids drooped sleepily, and he asked for mama again. Arya felt her milk starting to let down and waited no longer. She made her way over and wrapped her arms around Eragon's waist from behind.

"I have returned," Arya whispered.

Eragon startled slightly at her touch. "I didn't even notice," he sheepishly admitted. "Not being very attentive, am I? I was so preoccupied with Brom. I'm glad you're here. He's ready for you, my love." To his son he added, "Mama's back, Brom!"

"Mama!" Brom cried, reaching for her.

"Has he been potty?" Arya wondered, taking Brom from Eragon.

"Just a moment ago," Eragon said. "He wants _you_ , Arya. That makes two of us."

Arya smiled. "I'm not surprised you're his favorite. You're an amazing father, Eragon. I'll be quick." She took Brom to their bed and lay down to nurse him to sleep, which she knew wouldn't take long.

-:-:-

While he waited, Eragon went to the washroom, removed his shirt, and groomed his beard. He was aware when Arya next approached, but he didn't expect to feel her naked torso press against his bare back.

"Hello," he greeted. "I wasn't expecting that. I'm still all hairy."

"Are you otherwise finished?" Arya asked, breathing deeply against his skin and kissing his back.

"You tell me," Eragon replied. "Is this how you like it?"

Arya stretched onto her toes, and Eragon relished how her silky-soft, warm skin slid against his. She peered over his shoulder into the mirror to regard his face. "It's perfect," she informed him. "You're as heart-breakingly handsome as ever."

Eragon smiled. "I'm glad you think so, my love."

Arya teasingly echoed his words back to him. "I know so, Eragon. My belief had solidified into certain, unwavering knowledge."

"Willow would disagree," he played along. "And Maehrí. And Breetuk. And Greta."

"No, they wouldn't," Arya insisted. "They might not think you the handsomest male of their acquaintance, as do I, but they _would_ agree that you're heart-breakingly handsome. Because you are." She murmured a spell to remove all of the loose hair from his chest and shoulders.

Eragon kept his eyes on hers in the mirror. "That was useful. Thank you. How did it go again?"

Arya repeated the words without infusing them with power, and Eragon also said them, a questioning look in his eyes.

"That's right," Arya assured him, maintaining eye contact as she began to run her hands up and down, trailing her fingernails through his chest hair and massaging over his muscles. He smiled again at her obvious enjoyment then turned around to face her.

"Even after a hundred years of being with you, Arya, I doubt I'll ever stop feeling so wildly desperate for you. I'll never stop being surprised by how much you delight in my body, nor will I ever stop delighting equally as much in yours, perfect woman."

Arya brought her hands around so she could continue to caress his torso. "I'm so glad, Eragon. You still fill me with insatiable hunger. What are you in the mood for right now? Strong and wild? Slow and easy?"

Eragon chuckled. "All of the above? I'll be anything you want me to be, Arya. I'll do anything for you. Say anything. Go anywhere. Fight any foe."

"How sweet," she murmured. "Well, don't go anywhere right now. Don't fight anyone. But _do_ touch me." He immediately obeyed, and her voice raised. " _Do_ kiss me." He leaned down to comply, but she put a finger on his lips so she could finish, " _Say_ you want me. And above all, make love to me, Eragon. However you want." She removed her finger.

After whispering in a fierce voice, "I want you _so_ desperately, Arya," Eragon fulfilled her second command, starting out slow and easy but quickly moving to strong and wild. She was so irresistible and made him so hungry that he couldn't help it. Arya eagerly returned his every caress and kiss, undeniably savoring every second with him.

They remained right where they were, ending on the floor with Eragon leaning against the cabinet and Arya wrapped around his body in every way she could be. Her face was pressed against the top of his head and his was pushed into her upper chest.

"Brom must have fallen asleep quickly," Eragon nonchalantly observed after quieting his breathing. "I got several mouthfuls of milk that time." He smiled against her skin.

"Are you still enjoying it, darling?" Arya wondered.

"Absolutely. Are you?"

"Without a doubt," she replied. "I'm so grateful you'll continue to do that for me, though you unavoidably must swallow some milk. And I'm also very grateful you've never once griped that your son continues to nurse as determinedly as ever. Do you have a problem if he continues for some time, as the Urgralgra children often do?"

"Of course not, Arya," Eragon reassured before assuming a teasing tone. "He must if he's ever to stand a chance against Will and Var, as huge as they're getting. He won't ever match their size, but we must continue to give him whatever advantages we can. At least he'll always be able to outdistance them. And besides all that, it will only mean I get to continue enjoying our intimate exchanges with this unique element. Even if we have ten children, there will come a time when you'll be done nursing the last and the milk will eventually go away."

"True," Arya agreed with a laugh, running her fingers along the floor and ruefully observing, "I suppose my spell didn't do much good since we ended up sitting down right where all of that loose hair landed."

Eragon grinned, abruptly standing and murmuring the spell so the hair would fall off. He also used magic to sweep it all together and deposit it in the waste basket.

"There we go," he said, walking out of the washroom. "Now we needn't worry again. But you usually have some hair on your chest from mine after this, don't you?" Arya giggled and nodded.

Eragon smiled at the beloved sound of her laugh and asked, "How about a dance, my love? I haven't forgotten my duty to you, and it has now been some months since I made the promise to do better than before."

"I'd love to dance," Arya murmured, beginning to slide her legs down.

But Eragon shook his head, holding her in place as he began to waltz around the open area next to their bed. "I know this still feels exciting to you," he explained. "And I love holding you next to me like this. Do you object?"

"Of course not." Arya rested her cheek on her own shoulder—since her arms were wrapped tightly around his neck—and participated in the dance not with her legs and feet but with her hands and mouth. She busied them in a playful exploration of his hair, beard, ear, jaw, neck, and everywhere else she could reach. She even favored him with a few secrets, just as he had with Brom. He laughed more than a few times as her attentions tickled, eventually dancing her to the bed, where they carried on as they had in the washroom.

Once they were content to rest, Eragon scooted them over beside Brom, whose angelic face looked even more precious in sleep. Arya snuggled next to Eragon's chest, reaching her hand nearest Brom over to rest on his back. They napped with their baby, attempting to do as Myrintuk had counseled by enjoying their time together as a young family.

-:-:-:-


	22. King Kulkarvek

22\. King Kulkarvek

The Riders decided to return to Alagaёsia not long after Brom's first birthday, departing in the middle of the spring and giving themselves over two months to make the journey. They knew they wouldn't be able to fly long distances with the babies so mobile, so they planned for plenty of long breaks.

Many of the Riders' kin had made plans the previous year to attend the Games, for they were a momentous occasion made even more so by the anticipated presence of the Dragon Riders. But for those Riders whose families remained at their homes along the way to Ilirea, the generous time frame of their travels permitted them to stop and visit before arriving for the Games.

Without any burdensome restraints, the trip was actually pleasant. No one minded the leisurely pace, and the babies delighted in the exhilaration of flight, also enjoying every stop in a unique and interesting location. Following this unhurried schedule, the Riders arrived in Ilirea near the end of spring, approximately two months after leaving the Isle and about three weeks prior to the commencement of the Games.

All of Varhog's family, along with Roran and many villagers from Carvahall, had begun traveling from their respective homes some weeks earlier so they would arrive around the same time. Every Rider or relative of a Rider was given their own personal room in the palace as honored guests of the high queen and her prince. Never before had such a representation of every race assembled together as one. To see the Dragon Riders and their families get along in such a friendly way was exemplary for the normal residents of the palace, as well as the many other guests who were unrelated the Dragon Riders. This was particularly true as it concerned the Urgralgra, and the Riders loved them as much as any of the others.

Other citizens of Nasuada's kingdom camped in the countryside surrounding Ilirea, and more attendees arrived daily. The anticipation and excitement were palpable, and the many participants in the Games prepared and practiced to ready themselves for the intensive competitions that were nearly upon them. Many young Urgralgra rams were present to engage in the combat that would enable them to prove their valor in battle and their eligibility to take a mate. But none were from Anghelm, and this circumstance reminded Varhog, Grintuk, and Breetuk of the unpleasant requirement made by King Kulkarvek the previous year.

-:-:-

Not long after arriving in the palace and recovering from their travels, these three Riders prepared to depart for Anghelm so they could fulfill the command of King Kulkarvek. Varhog absolutely forbade Willow from accompanying him, and the other two vehemently supported him.

Willow watched Varhog fly away with a sad heart. It was the first separation of their relationship, and she already felt the deep ache of missing her husband. She knew it would be so much harder for her to care for the twins on her own and that they would desperately miss their dada, so she tried to console herself with Varhog's reassurances that he would scry her each night and return in time for the twins' first birthday in two weeks.

-:-:-

Varhog felt equally unhappy, but he knew how essential it was for Willow's safety that she never meet King Kulkarvek. To ensure that he would keep his promise to Willow and return within two weeks, he and his companions flew at a much more determined pace than had the party with all of the babies.

Breetuk was not as encumbered by flying as Willow had been near the end of her pregnancy because of her great height, though she was only two months from the time of her expected delivery. She and Grintuk flew on Kuldr, and Midnight flew alongside, hopping aboard for a ride when the enormous golden dragon threatened to leave her behind.

The Urgal Riders knew they needed to make the journey in less than a week so they could return in the same amount of time to Ilirea, and they wanted to arrive with a couple of days to visit Grintuk's family before their audience with King Kulkarvek. They planned only to greet the king and fulfill their unwelcome responsibility, taking their leave as soon as possible after that.

They arrived on schedule, and Grintuk's prediction of nearly a year earlier proved true. His mother's regret at not being present for her only son's marriage was completely alleviated when she saw that he would soon be a sire. They enjoyed their brief time with Grintuk's family, wishing they had longer and promising to return with the new baby for a longer visit after the Games were over and it had been born.

-:-:-

On a warm early-summer morning, the three set out for the barrows to find King Kulkarvek. They rode their dragons, who walked into the city center, which arrangement they hoped would be more agreeable to the king. None spoke, for the dread of meeting Kulkarvek and the many dismal possibilities that might arise from such an audience weighed on their minds. As they neared the barrows, Varhog finally broke the silence.

"There's a chance the king will learn of Willow. I think we should remain outside near our dragons in case we need to depart swiftly. None of us could outrun or outfight him on our own. Do either of you object?"

"No," Grintuk said. "I agree completely. I'm anxious for this unwelcome visit to be over."

"I'll enter and inform him that we're here and wish to meet him outside," Varhog said.

When they arrived at the entrance to the king's stronghold a few minutes later, Varhog dismounted, approached the stone doors, and pushed them open. He walked inside with his head held high, his shoulders set. Grintuk and Breetuk climbed off of their dragons and stood in front of them, having agreed beforehand not to let on of their relationship unless the king asked about it directly.

After a brief span elapsed, the doors swung inward once more and King Kulkarvek emerged with terrible decisiveness, followed by Varhog, who walked back to Black Thunder.

Kulkarvek glared balefully at the three dragons, lingering with noticeable rage on Black Thunder. Then with a slightly less hateful look, his eyes fell on Breetuk and he approached her.

"You have returned," Kulkarvek said.

"Yes, Your Majesty," she replied. "According to your command."

"How are you?" he asked, completely ignoring the males.

"Well, Your Majesty. Thank you."

"How has your time as a Dragon Rider been?"

"I have found it most enjoyable," Breetuk answered. "May I ask you something, Your Majesty?"

"Yes," he replied, being neither kind nor as hostile as he normally was.

"Why do you hate dragons so much?"

The king's face darkened, taking on a distant look. "Long, long ago, when I was but a lad and my horns had only begun growing, my family traveled from our native tribe lands near Lake Fläm to visit Anghelm. Clan rivalry did not exist then, nor was there a king or queen. We came to visit some kinsmen of my sire.

"There is an area nearby where a thick sheet of ice remains year-round. It was a favorite location for families to visit in summer so their young ones could play. On a clear summer morning, a large group of families made their way to the ice sheet for a picnic. It was far removed from the city, even as my barrows now are. On that fateful day, our party unexpectedly encountered three Dragon Riders and their dragons. No one understood each other, but our knowledge of Dragon Riders was that they were peaceful and their purpose was to guard and protect, so at first no one attacked.

"It became clear as soon as the first Urgralgra ram fell to a dragon's flames that they wanted to kill us, though we were not being aggressive. The humans laughed at the screams of terror and agony as the women and children began to succumb to a painful death by fire. The rams fought most valiantly to defend their mates and cubs. I watched my sire die as he fought to protect my mother and younger siblings. They fell soon after. Two of the dragons and their Riders were slain by the rams, who were furious at the unprovoked attack and the brutal murders of the innocent women and cubs. The third man fought back desperately, and soon almost all of the Urgralgra were killed. It was clear from the beginning that the Dragon Riders viewed my family and friends as monsters, though our group was peaceful and the many cubs were happily playing.

"I had some ability with magic and, quite by accident, had at that point learned a rudimentary method of making myself appear nearly invisible. In my terror, I called upon my only spell right at the start and watched in rage as the fighting continued, wanting to help but not seeing how I would be any use since I was still so young and inexperienced in battle and trained warriors were falling all around me. At last, when the dragon and Rider were distracted by the final rams standing against them, I snuck forward and seized a bow and arrow from one of the fallen warriors. I aimed for the beast's heart and loosed the arrow. My shot was true, and it mortally wounded the dragon. It was young, I now know, judging by the size of these two larger ones before me.

"The man immediately knew what had happened, for he screamed in agonized terror, quickly subduing the last of my friends. I watched as he held his dragon while it bled to death in his arms. Before he fled in desperate anguish, I lost hold of my spell and became visible once more. He saw my face but was in no state to seek vengeance because of his grievous wounds. He fled from this location but stayed on in our mountains and became as a wraith, haunting the area and slaying ram and beast in an effort to find death, though he never succeeded.

"I alone remained of my family and friends. I was paralyzed by grief and shock. I numbly made my way back to the city. When the others learned of the tragedies of the day and verified my account by a visit to the ice sheet, they appointed me as first king of the Urgralgra for my amazing feat of bringing down a dragon and living to tell.

"I never returned home to my native clan, the Bolvek tribe. I had no desire to live after their peaceful ways nor be reminded of the life I had lived with my family. My heart was too angry, which made me violent, for in time my grief and shock turned to bitterness and rage. I remained in Anghelm and made my home in the very location of the massacre, even where we now stand. The ice sheet is behind my dwelling. I wanted to stay close to the only reminder of the family I had loved and lost, as well as the evidence of their terrible murderers. The bones of those dragons lie among these piles right here, along with the skeletons of my family and friends. As I have killed disgusting humans over the years of my long reign, I have added their bodies to the heaps and mounted their heads in my stronghold.

"Many lonely years passed, and I sought out instruction in the ways of magic so I could accelerate the rate of my growth. I wanted the strength and size that would enable me to stand against a dragon and protect my people from the murderous ways of the humans. I adjusted the requirements surrounding a ram's eligibility to take a mate. Before the changes, a ram would often travel together with his family or friends to other Urgralgra villages and engage in friendly wrestling to prove his worthiness, or even to take a mate from that tribe. According to the old rules, he only had to _subdue_ three foes. But my new laws required him to _kill_ three opponents.

"My initial objective in making this change was two-fold. First—as should be obvious—I did it so more humans would die. At the time, the Urgralgra never thought to kill other Urgralgra, so they automatically turned to the nearest human villages to seek out the conflicts necessary to fulfill my new requirements in proving their eligibility. I also knew this would solidify the fear humans already felt toward the Urgralgra because of our animalistic appearance, reinforcing the view that we are not a race to mistreat. My other purpose was to discourage the free movement of Urgralgra across the land, but it was only partially successful at first, for the rams would still congregate and attack human villages together.

"But soon a third unforeseen consequence arose, one I initially frowned upon. It should come as no surprise to you that hot-blooded Urgralgra rams soon began to compete with one another when they learned of the conquests of other rams over neighboring human villages. This began to lead to violence and rivalry _between_ Urgralgra clans. And since it's no secret that subduing and killing an Urgralgra ram is a far more difficult undertaking than subduing and killing a puny human man, the rams soon viewed killing another ram from a different clan as a more prestigious conquest than killing a human.

"As I said, I initially did not favor this unexpected turn of events because it meant my fighting rams were killing each other. But I quickly saw that it was actually beneficial for another reason. The older Urgralgra began to discourage their single rams from traveling to other clans because of how it might result in their untimely deaths. The animosity deepened as tribes began secluding themselves even more, leaving only to attack the humans nearest them in order to prove their valor. And deaths from Urgralgra fighting each other were so few compared to the deaths of humans. I then allowed the rivalry to continue since it kept my people safer in their hidden villages.

"My entire reign has been dedicated to the safety of my people by protecting them from the senseless hatred of the humans. At every opportunity I have eliminated that abominable race from the land and encouraged the same from my rams."

Breetuk meekly asked, "In doing this are you not becoming that which you hate? One who is prejudiced, cruel, and operates completely out of fear and misunderstanding?"

The king grimaced. "I am _not_ afraid of _humans._ I could crush them all. They have _never_ tried to understand the Urgralgra. Nor would understanding _their_ ways help _us_. I already know they are blind. All any human sees when they see an Urgal is a monstrous beast. They never try to look past our differences—our horns, our skin, our eyes—refusing to see that they are equally as different and repulsive to us. There will never be peace between our races. But behind the violent front I have propagated to protect my people, our ways are far more peaceful and natural, and our race deserves to remain in this land. The humans must be eradicated."

Breetuk could see that the king was entirely blinded by his ancient hatred and rage. She completely disagreed with his brutal ultimatum that humans needed to be abolished, but she also felt unexpectedly sorry for her grandfather. Though his efforts were misguided and prejudiced, he truly thought he had done his best to protect the Urgralgra from what he perceived as the greatest threat to their safety and happiness.

She compassionately said, "I can see how you would feel that way after what happened to your family and friends right in front of your eyes. You implied the surviving man returned. And last year you said a dragon took everything from you twice. To what did you refer?"

The king's face grew ever darker. "The man did return, many years later. As you surely already know, it was Galbatorix. He came with another Dragon Rider on his red dragon. He had already returned to the elders of his order and demanded they give him a new dragon, which request was denied. But he had also learned something that gave him a shred of hope that he might overcome the devastation of losing his first dragon. He learned of the Eldunarí, which I also learned about completely by accident when I felt their magical presence as their flesh bodies began to decay. As my magical abilities grew, I soon forced these three Eldunarí into my servitude, and their strength only increased my own.

"So Galbatorix returned a second time with the hope that his first dragon had fled into her Eldunarí before her death. When it was clear she had, he demanded I return her Eldunarí to his custody—"

"How did you learn all of what you just shared," Breetuk curiously interrupted.

"Galbatorix told me. We communicated using the ancient language, which I had necessarily learned to control magic. I denied his request, just as his elders had done, and he was furious but had no ability to defy me. He tried to fight, but I was stronger than he and his faithful disciple with the combined strength of my own might and the three Eldunarí who served me. Galbatorix left in a rage, but I knew I had not seen the last of him. His grievances against me were only increasing, and I was sure I would one day face him again.

"But years and years passed. By scrying, I learned of the destruction Galbatorix and his followers were wreaking in the land as they gained strength. I rejoiced that they were killing so many despicable dragons and Dragon Riders and hoped the madman would fall in the end. As I continued to insist on hiding my people, venturing forth only to kill the humans who would never understand us, in time I all but forgot the threat of Galbatorix, for he never _did_ return, though I always thought he would.

"I met a young female who was tall and fair. I fell in love with her, though I was beyond the age most rams would be when becoming a grandfather. Even as I had accelerated my physical growth with magic, I decelerated my physical aging through the same means, and I did not appear much older than thirty. I don't know that she loved me in return as much as I loved her, but she accepted me as her mate, for I was the king and would not be refused.

"It was only just over fifty years ago that my mate bore me a cub. A daughter. For the first time since my early childhood when my family and friends had been brutally murdered right before my eyes, I felt some happiness within my heart at the family I had established. But it was all so short-lived. When our daughter was two, my mate and I left her in the care of another so we could spend the day alone in the forest for our anniversary.

"By this time, Galbatorix had long since carried out his plan to collect the Eldunarí, destroy the Dragon Riders, and establish himself as king of Alagaёsia. Little did I know that he waited and watched for the perfect moment to take his revenge on me. On this day that Myrintuk and I went to the forest, he somehow knew—most likely through spying and scrying—and met us. He was infinitely stronger than me then, with his stolen black dragon—whose growth he had accelerated in the very same way I did my own—and his hoard of stolen Eldunarí. He immediately had that devil Shruikan devour my beautiful mate right in front of my eyes.

"Then rather than put me out of my misery and kill me with her, he wove a spell to curse me to live forever without her. He knew from the personal experience of losing his first dragon that such a fate would be far more devastating than even the most painful death. The dragons took the spell over for him. All they knew of me was warped through the twisted information Galbatorix had always shared with them, so they felt I deserved the torturous punishment. They cursed me that I would never die of old age, nor could I ever be killed by any weapon, spell, poison, or dragon. He already knew no mortal man or ram could stand against me, so he made me invulnerable to every other possible method through which I might meet death. And I obviously can't put myself out of my misery through suicide, though I have tried. The sharpest blade bounces off my hide. Dragon teeth and claw likewise have no effect.

"The only exception to the dragons' magic was Galbatorix himself. He knew that by cursing me to live forever and making me invincible, he was creating a foe who might one day defeat him, so the dragons wove a defense mechanism into their spell. If I ever tried to confront him, Galbatorix would easily be able to kill me with a simple word. And since the magic of the dragons was responsible for the curse, he also knew that if he ever succeeded in accomplishing his goal of uncovering the name of the ancient language, then that too would not undo his spell."

"Then there's no way for you to die?" Breetuk wondered. "You seem so tired and miserable. What a cruel fate."

"Because he knew it would never happen, the only possibility that Galbatorix did not include in his curse was if an opponent could subdue me with their bare hands in the single combat fighting we Urgralgra prefer. I saw to it that such a fate would be impossible when I grew myself ten feet tall. No human, elf, or Urgal can stand against me, and I also can't allow them to try. I must fight every contest with the fiercest determination to live, though every part of me longs for death. My one hope for rest died with Galbatorix, but he intended to let me live forever in my agony.

"After killing Myrintuk and completing his revenge with his curse, Galbatorix seized possession of the three Eldunarí and left me with cruel amusement in his eyes, for his punishment was successful. I was bereaved and heartbroken in every way, doomed to remain forever upon the land.

"My reason for living was gone. With her went my will to fight. I returned to my daughter but could barely function. I didn't know how to carry on and be a father without my mate. When my daughter grew and came to look so much like her mother, it pierced my heart more deeply, but she was my only reminder of Myrintuk, my mate. And when she left me—overlooking the clan rivalry which had by then become fierce and deadly and ignoring my furious threats—my devastation was complete. I've remained in the barrows ever since, only occasionally leaving to remind the humans not to meddle with my people and wishing all the while that death would find me.

"So you now know the full truth of my terrible past as no other living being. And it is surely perfectly clear to you why I abhor dragons and humans above all other living creatures, why I hate standing in their presence. I would kill them right now—especially this horrible black beast because of how he reminds me of Shruikan—were you not with them. They cannot kill me with their hottest flames or strongest bite or slash. Galbatorix's curse would prevent them from tearing me to pieces, and I would be forced to continue fighting until I prevailed."

Breetuk stared at the king in pitying silence, tears streaming down her face, which face she knew looked so much like the one of the mate he had loved and lost. She suddenly felt such compassion for her grandfather and for the terrible, cruel life he had endured. But no matter how his awful past softened her heart toward him, she still could not accept his ruthless hatred of humans and dragons. He was completely blind to any alternative to his own viewpoint, and she knew it had led to the loss of countless innocent human and Urgralgra lives. She knew there was nothing she could say that would even begin to change his mind, but she was determined to try.

"You're surely aware that a human destroyed Galbatorix?" Breetuk meekly began. "Does this not serve as any small redemption of his crimes against you?"

" _Firesword?"_ Kulkarvek spat. "He has worked to undo everything I've accomplished during my reign in his misguided efforts to ensure peace between the humans and Urgralgra. Starting those ridiculous Games and changing back to the old ways of only subduing an opponent! Including the Urgralgra in the pact with the dragons! Not only that, but he killed my one chance for death! And I would have long ago gone to Galbatorix and attempted to confront him in an effort to end my life had I not feared for my people's safety in my absence. It would have then been all the easier for Galbatorix to fulfill his darkest desire to wipe the Urgralgra off the land."

"But when Firesword killed him, he also removed the possibility that Galbatorix would ever accomplish that awful objective," Breetuk protested. "And he has since tried to ensure that we can remain in the land, just as you also desire. He doesn't hate us, as you so stringently insist! Nor do the other human Riders! We're friends. They have lived among our people and see—as you said—the peace and beauty of our ways."

The king's eyes filled with cold fury. " _No_ human will ever make up for the wrongs I received at Galbatorix's hand and through his dragons," he said in a deadly whisper. "No human deserves to live in this land. I will live forever, and I will eventually see to it that they are all killed, every last one."

"Why haven't you, Your Majesty?" Breetuk angrily asked. "If you can, why do you simply sit here and stew in the barrows! As you yourself said, if surely can't be that you're afraid!"

Kulkarvek seemed surprised by her defiance, but he nonetheless answered, "No, not afraid. The presence of the dragons riled me up enough to order the ambush last winter and to personally attack the blue dragon. But once the dragons left, my exhaustion and despair once again overwhelmed me and I no longer felt the strength to continue. My greatest hesitation all these years has been Myrintuk. When I set out to destroy the humans, the Bolvek tribe will stand against me, just as they are currently doing. Eventually that will lead to Myrintuk's death. Though I once renounced her and told her she was as dead to me, I have come to regret that harshness against my only child. I decided I would wait until her life naturally ended before carrying out my plans, unless something provokes me before then."

"You would show you only daughter mercy, but not other innocent women and children of your own race?" Breetuk accused. "How _could_ you force those rams last winter by threatening their mates and cubs? Have you sunk so low!"

"They needed to know I was serious!" Kulkarvek bellowed. "For nothing less would some of those rams have obeyed my orders. I knew it would work and that I would never have to kill an innocent female or cub. Our rams will do anything to protect their families, just as I will do anything to protect my people from the humans."

"I've always seen this as a strength of our people," Breetuk said. "But perhaps it's actually a weakness. So many innocent people have died during your reign as a result of this stubborn pride! Why insist on so many more? By the time my mother dies, there will be more Dragon Riders. Will you also kill the Urgralgra in our ranks? Will you kill your own granddaughter? I'll also live forever."

Kulkarvek's eyes saddened. "You I might spare. You look enough like her. But your dragon must die. And the rest of the Riders. Eventually." He wearily bowed his head.

"They don't see us as beasts!" Breetuk insisted again. "We wouldn't stand idly by and let you destroy our friends!"

A bark of derisive laughter escaped the king's mouth. "And how will you stop me? It doesn't matter how many spells you cast against me, how many swords you swing at me, or how long your dragons breathe flames on me. I can't be killed! But I'll make something of it. I'll use my accursedly long life to do this land a favor and destroy the humans after Myrintuk is gone."

"Well, you'll have to kill me too, grandfather," Breetuk heatedly said. "If you killed Grintuk and Midnight, I'd kill myself anyway. Then you really would be alone with no one but Urgralgra, who already hate and fear you because of your terrible, senseless tyranny."

Her words were lost on Kulkarvek, for at her first utterance of 'grandfather,' he had frozen, his eyes taking on the gentleness Breetuk had seen only once before when they had first fallen on her nearly a year before.

He carefully reached a huge hand toward her face and said, "'Grandfather?' I'm your grandfather. And you're my granddaughter, like you said." His eyes grew distant. "You look so much like her. Like my Myrintuk, just as she looked when I met her, for she was also Kull. I see you're expecting a cub, granddaughter. Who is your mate?"

Breetuk blinked in confusion at the king's abrupt change in manner, answering, "Grintuk, Your Majesty. Grintuk is my mate."

For the first time, the king tore his eyes off of Breetuk and reluctantly moved them to Grintuk. He had ignored the two males from the moment he left his stone fortress. "You had best take care of her, Rider," he coldly said. "Or you'll have me to answer to, and you do not want me as your enemy. Indeed, having a dragon already makes me dislike you, though you're a fine Urgralgra ram. Would that the Urgralgra had never been dragged into this pact. Though Firesword tried to establish peace between our races, there will never be peace between the Urgralgra and the humans so long as I am the king."

-:-:-

Varhog spoke for the first time, and _he_ had been listening most attentively to the entire tale. "Then perhaps it is time for your reign to come to an end, Your Majesty," he very quietly suggested.

Kulkarvek slowly turned toward Varhog, staring down at him with a steely glare. "How dare you speak to me in such a manner!" he rumbled. "Why did you never return here before, boy? Wait, now that I look at you more closely, I can see that you bear this girl a strong resemblance. Are you related?"

"Breetuk is my youngest sister, Your Majesty," Varhog calmly replied, not at all intimidated by the old king.

"Sister?" Kulkarvek repeated, turning back to Breetuk. "Last year you told me you weren't important enough to know of this ram's affairs because he was famous. Yet he is your brother. What is the meaning of this?"

"I lied, grandfather," Breetuk meekly confessed.

The king clearly did not wish to take his wrath out on Breetuk, but he seemed determined to find an outlet as he accusingly regarded Grintuk. " _You_ said he was most occupied on the Isle and had no time to return here. Was that too a lie?"

"It wasn't a lie, Your Majesty," Grintuk replied. "It was also not the full truth."

Kulkarvek spun back to face Varhog. "I _will_ have the truth!" he roared. "Why have you never returned to honor your king, _grandson_?" He spat the last term like a curse, obviously feeling none of the same reluctant affection for Varhog that he had shown toward Breetuk.

"I also took a mate, grandfather," Varhog replied, calm as ever. "And I was busy taking care of her during her pregnancy with our twins and then with helping her care for them. They are now nearly one."

"Mates," the king irritably muttered, once again drastically changing moods. "Everyone is always taking mates. And what good does it do? They go and get killed and leave you more heartbroken than you ever could have been without them, and they give you cubs who abandon you forever. What good are mates?" He ended his insane rambling by glaring down at Varhog once more.

"Well," he demanded. "Why didn't you bring her and these two cubs along? Surely she would have appreciated the honor of meeting her king?"

" _She_ would have," Varhog agreed. "But _you_ most certainly would not have welcomed her. I left them because I feared for their safety in your presence, Your Majesty."

"Their safety?" the king demanded. " _I_ would not harm your family, Rider, though I like _you_ as little as any other Rider with a dragon."

"I wish I could trust you," Varhog said, "but I had to be sure nonetheless. Willow is more important to me than anything else."

"Willow?" the king echoed. "Willow? This is not an Urgralish name." He stopped short as Varhog's meaning struck him. "Your mate is not Urgralgra." It was a statement of deathly certainty.

As Kulkarvek slowly turned to fully face him, Varhog mentally communicated to Grintuk and Breetuk to mount Kuldr and prepare to take off at once. He had already been communicating with Black Thunder in a similar manner, planning a hasty departure if the situation turned. Now it had.

"No, Your Majesty," Varhog coolly replied, still unafraid, though he was three feet shorter than his grandfather.

"Is she a _human_?" the king icily whispered. "The pregnant one I remember seeing heal the blue dragon last winter."

"Yes, Your Majesty, she is," Varhog confirmed.

"And is she also a _Rider?_ " Kulkarvek pressed, his steadily growing fury all the more alarming because of how abnormally calm he sounded.

"Yes, Your Majesty. Willow is a human Dragon Rider."

"You will die for this, grandson," Kulkarvek promised in a chilling, deadly tone. "As will she. And your cubs. And every human who stands in my way between here and Ilirea where they wait for you." He began to scream. "Everyone will die! Everyone! Everyone but me!" He laughed maniacally as tears of utter, profound anguish leaked from his insane eyes.

Varhog leaped on Black Thunder's back at the same time Kuldr took to the skies. Black Thunder loosed a river of black flames right on the king. Varhog knew it would not kill Kulkarvek, but he also knew it would distract him enough to prevent him from using magic while they left.

As Black Thunder jumped into the air, Varhog shouted down to his grandfather in a magically magnified voice, "You're wrong, grandfather! On all counts but one. Willow will not die. Nor will our sons. Nor will the humans. But _you_ will. You will. Prepare to face your end when next we meet!"

Their wards protected them from Kulkarvek's attempted attacks and then they were far enough away to be safe. But they heard the king's voice as he amplified it to the farthest reaches of Anghelm. "Prepare for battle! We march tomorrow for Ilirea to put an end to the madness that the Dragon Riders have unleashed upon the land. Fighting rams, assemble! We march for war on the morrow!"


	23. Preparations for War

23\. Preparations for War

Varhog hastily communicated with the other two Riders and their dragons. _We have little time. The king will run with full speed to Ilirea, arriving in perhaps just over a week. Unless he waits for his rams, then we might have two weeks. But they will march swiftly, especially once he incites them to war with the distorted truth he will share._

 _It was no idle threat that he intends to kill every human who stands in his path to Ilirea. Our first duty is to warn them and protect their towns with wards. We must split up to accomplish this in time. You both visited many villages and settlements up here on your goodwill trips. Revisit them now. Advise the humans to abandon their homes and find a good hiding place. Kulkarvek will not stop long enough to go in search, as set as he is on reaching Ilirea and killing Willow. Which will never happen,_ he reassured, sensing Breetuk's fear.

Varhog continued, _Cast wards to protect their homes from being burned or torn down. Use your dragons' strength. We can't cast enough wards to protect all of the living people, but we can protect the inanimate buildings in their towns. Be as thorough as you can, following the course Kulkarvek will take over land. We can't let innocent humans die in his rage. I'll stop in Yazuac and Daret before returning to the Bolvek village to inform the fighting rams that Willow is in danger. They'll run to her side and so will her wolves. I need to arrive there by tonight if they're to have enough time to beat Kulkarvek to Ilirea. Kulkarvek must be stopped. He_ will _be. I'll scry the others as soon as I can to apprise them of this danger. It is as we feared. I'm sorry, you two. We'll meet again in Ilirea to prepare for this threat._

Varhog ended his communication and closed his mind, urging Black Thunder to fly with all possible haste to Yazuac. When able to do that, Black Thunder was unmatchable. Varhog flew alone with no companions for the first time in months, and he could fly incredibly fast without the cares of a pregnant mate or two wriggling cubs.

 _Willow!_ he desperately thought. _The twins! They're in grave danger! Black Thunder, what will we do?_

 _You already know, my son,_ the dragon sadly replied.

 _I do,_ Varhog bleakly agreed. _Nothing can change that, so let's focus now on this task then return to Ilirea so I can be with my family._

-:-:-

They arrived in Yazuac an hour and a half later. Varhog leaped off Black Thunder and sprinted through town until he arrived at Gareth's inn. He burst through the door, relieved to find the innkeeper at the bar.

"Varhog!" Gareth cried in alarm, obviously unprepared to have an Urgal ram come barging through his doors.

"Gareth!" Varhog urgently exclaimed. "King Kulkarvek marches on the morrow to Ilirea with the intention of killing Willow and our two sons. He threatened to kill every human who stands in his way, and you would qualify here in Yazuac. I have come to warn you to flee with the other villagers to a safe location, away from the path that would lead from Anghelm to Ilirea. The king will not come searching. He will be single-minded in his march. I'll cast wards to protect your homes from fire or destruction, but that's all I can do in the time I have. We Dragon Riders will assist you with any repairs should my wards fail. Do you understand?"

Gareth nodded silently, and Varhog said, "Good. Can I count on you to spread the word?"

"Aye, Varhog," Gareth promised. "Thank you for your warning."

"Do not delay!" Varhog urged, dashing out the door. He drew on Black Thunder's power to cast the wards in a sweeping way over the whole village, feeling too rushed to run from one building to the next.

 _Was I thorough enough?_ he asked Black Thunder as he reached him once more and ran up to his back.

 _So it appears,_ Black Thunder said.

 _Good. Let's do the same in Daret._

Within a matter of minutes they reached the nearby village. Varhog sought out Tomath's father but was disappointed to learn that Tomath's family had left to attend the Games. Varhog spoke with the nearest person he found, relaying his urgent message until he was sure it had been received. Then he cast the wards and jumped on Black Thunder to fly home.

Once he reached his village, he roared for the villagers to assemble. Many Urgralgra exited their huts and gathered in the village square.

When enough had arrived, Varhog shouted, "King Kulkarvek learned that I have a human for a mate. He is beyond furious and marches on the morrow for Ilirea to kill Willow and the babies. I know you fighting rams are loyal to her as your rightful war chief. If you would march by her side into battle as you have always pledged, then do not delay in fitting yourselves for war and departing at once for the capitol, even Ilirea. With your head start, you will surely reach our destination before King Kulkarvek. To your arms!" The rams thundered their approval as their mates and children looked on in worry.

Varhog needed to be moving, so instead of mounting Black Thunder again, he ran at top speed to his and Willow's hut, mentally calling for Steel and Boldclaw to meet him. He arrived within minutes and dashed inside to retrieve the one item he needed that was not already in Ilirea with their swords and her armor. It was the heart-shaped fairth, and Varhog knew the time had come for him to give it to Willow. He had created the frame exactly as he envisioned, borrowing two more scales from their dragons and singing them into thin strands that he entwined around one another in a delicate twist. He shaped the twist into a heart of precisely the same size as the slate and fixed it to the perimeter as a frame, enhancing the beauty of the image in a personal way. Tears sprang to his eyes as he once again regarded the picture of his family with the new knowledge of what his future held. He pushed the thought from his mind, quickly relieved himself in the washroom, and ran back outside.

The wolves were waiting for him with their three adolescent cubs. _Thank you for coming so swiftly,_ Varhog thought. _Willow is in danger. I thought you might like to know, in case you wish to run to her side and offer your support. She alone will be able to face the threat and triumph, but having your presence near will give her courage and fill her with gratitude. The distance is great and you need not travel it, but if you do, follow this route._ He mentally relayed the images that would take the wolves along the eastern border of the Spine, around Woadark Lake, and along the Toark River in proximity to water all the way to the northern shores of Leona Lake. Then he instructed them to run due east to Ilirea. _Thank you, my friends,_ he finished. _We owe you so much. Willow loves you. I love you._ It was strange for Varhog to admit, but he knew it was true as he thought it.

Brushing his tears away, Varhog took a deep breath and pulled his enchanted scrying mirror out of his pocket so he could contact Willow. Once she had her own mirror in front of her, Willow immediately noticed his countenance and exclaimed, "Varhog! Whatever is the matter?"

"The king," Varhog answered, blinking as the tears returned. "He marches on the morrow for Ilirea. If he waits for his fighting rams to keep pace, they'll most likely arrive in two weeks. If he marches on ahead, he could cover the same distance faster. He comes to kill us all, Eartheyes. I'm at our hut, and I'll fly through the night to return to your side. Please notify the others."

Before he could end the spell, Willow quickly entreated, "Don't go yet, sweetheart. Say hello to Will and Var. All day they're asking to play with dada and wondering where you are. They anticipate this scrying session more than anything else." She transferred his spell to a larger mirror resting on a dresser in their chamber in Ilirea before lifting the boys in front of it. "Here's dada, boys," she whispered, clearly stricken by Varhog's news. "Say hello."

They pressed their small hands to the mirror as they looked longingly at Varhog. The first time he had scryed them, they had tried to go through the mirror to get to him. Now they knew that he couldn't be right there with them, but they nonetheless acted like they loved seeing his face.

"Dada!" the twins cried at the same time. "Dada come home!" they begged. They were talking so well, though they were just under one, for their command of verbal language had only increased as they grew.

Varhog's tears spilled onto his cheeks, something Willow noticed. "Dada's coming home tonight, my sons," Varhog promised. "I'll see you in the morning. I love you so much, Will," he said, holding a finger over the area where Will's small hands were pressed. "I love you so much, Var," he repeated, moving his finger over. "Keep being good for mama. I'll see you soon." He looked back up at Willow. "I love you so much, Eartheyes," he said. "Don't wait up for me. If I arrive while you're sleeping, I promise I'll awaken you." He gazed at her eyes a moment longer then ended the spell before he broke down.

He turned and blindly climbed into Black Thunder's saddle. _Fly, my father,_ he begged. _I want to have as much time with them as I possibly can._ The dragon took off with nary a reply, his thoughts also heavy as he contemplated his Rider's plans. Varhog leaned over, wrapping his arms as far around his dragon's neck as he could. Hot tears coursed out of his eyes for the next many hours as he flew more swiftly than the wind back to Ilirea.

Black Thunder kept up the dizzying pace the entire journey, neither he nor Varhog indicating a need to stop for any reason, and they arrived in Ilirea several hours before dawn. Varhog's emotions had run their course, and he felt weary as he dismounted in the vast courtyard in front of the palace.

 _Thank you, my father,_ Varhog thought. _Never has a dragon flown more swiftly. Stay within my mind and as near as possible these next days. We'll make the most of them._

Black Thunder said nothing as he gently pressed his snout to Varhog's chest. Varhog's eyes teared up again, and he hugged his dragon before turning to cross the courtyard into the palace. Upon arriving in their chamber, Varhog relieved himself, brushed his teeth, and drank a glass of water, ignoring his gnawing hunger. Then he went to Willow.

She was lying mostly reclined in the middle of the huge bed, Will and Var each snuggled next to her sides with their faces resting on her chest. They were so beautiful. Varhog knelt next to the bed and bowed his head to the mattress, realizing Willow wouldn't have been able to hold them all night to nurse without his help. He reached over and took Willow's nearest hand. Then he wept. His cries turned to sobs that soon awakened Willow.

"Varhog?" she whispered, withdrawing her hand so she could reposition the boys next to each other and move away. Willow scooted across the mattress and slid down by his side.

"Varhog," she repeated. "I'm overjoyed you are back. I missed you so much, sweetheart." She wrapped her arms around his chest as he sat back over his ankles and pulled her onto his lap.

"Willow," he sobbed. "Willow, I love you so much. I'm so sorry this has happened." He pulled her tightly against him, pressing her face to his chest.

"Shhh," she soothed. "Why are you so distraught?"

Before answering, Varhog attempted to calm himself by breathing deeply. At length he said, "Because I know what I must do, but I don't know how I'll ever be able to go through with it."

Willow drew her head back, muttering a spell to light the Erisdar near the bed so she could see him. "What do you mean, Varhog?"

Varhog stared at her silently, debating over whether or not to share his plans. She waited patiently. Finally he said, "Willow, I fear you would never forgive me if I kept this from you until it was too late. I'll share with you what is weighing on my heart and mind, but it will pain you more than it does me. I feel certain that the final trial Rahna spoke of is upon us. She said something before that I didn't think to share with you when I first brought this up because it didn't seem important. But now it does. When I first prayed, I asked for her to help you. I cried that I couldn't lose you because I needed you. Because we _all_ needed you, this world needed you. When Rahna appeared, she agreed with me that this world needs you. Then she informed us that the tree of life would restore you, and I've already told you what she said next."

He took a deep breath and finished, "But now that this threat with Kulkarvek has arisen, I know what is expected of me and I'm prepared to do it. I only fear what it will mean for you and our sons."

The worry in her eyes deepened. "What do you mean, Varhog?" Willow repeated in a whisper.

"I need to tell you something of what we learned in Anghelm to help you understand," Varhog began. "Since Kulkarvek is the Urgal who killed Galbatorix's first dragon, Galbatorix hated him and wanted to seek revenge, especially after he returned to collect his first dragon's Eldunarí and Kulkarvek refused to give it up. Galbatorix waited for the right moment to punish Kulkarvek, which came after Kulkarvek married. When my mother was only two, he and his mate went alone to the forest, where Galbatorix met him and instructed Shruikan to kill Myrintuk right in front of him. Then Galbatorix cursed him to live forever in his misery, knowing it would be a far worse punishment than simply ending his life. Kulkarvek can't be killed by magic, weapons, poison, suicide, or a dragon. Nor will he die of natural means, such as old age or illness. Galbatorix knew no mortal or immortal could stand against the king in hand-to-hand combat, so no precaution was taken against that. The only way King Kulkarvek can be killed is if someone can subdue him with their bare hands. Eartheyes, do you see that you have been prepared all these years to face him? _You_ can kill Kulkarvek. You are the only one with the ability, for Rhunön provided the means whereby you would succeed."

"How does this have anything to do with what you were just now insinuating?" Willow whispered. "We have long feared this might be expected of me."

"Yes, Eartheyes. The difference is that you _must_ be ensured your success. The only way you will know for certain how to defeat him is if you have first seen him fight from your fighting mind. You've never faced a foe like him, Willow. He makes _me_ appear as a dwarf. He is unbelievably enormous and strong. You must see him fight someone else first, and that someone must be me."

"No, Varhog!" she cried, tears filling her eyes. "Please don't say that! He'll kill you!"

"Most likely," Varhog dismally agreed, fighting to keep his emotions in check. "But I'm _sure_ this is what Rahna meant. I've told you countless times that I would lay down my life to protect you. And I will. Next to you, _I_ have the greatest chance of defeating Kulkarvek in single combat, but I don't think I can triumph. Not without the armor Rhunön made for you. I'm sure I could dodge and evade him, but I know I'm not strong enough to subdue him as I do other Urgralgra rams, nor could I snap his neck even if I could pin him. If I attempted your usual tactic, he would crush my arms and my back if he wanted. But I must fight him first, and you must watch from your fighting mind. And we'll keep our minds in contact so you can feel everything I'm feeling and prepare for his strength."

"You're telling me I'm going to have to watch you be killed— _feel_ you die—right in front of my eyes!" Willow desperately cried, her tears spilling onto her cheeks. "I can't, Varhog! I can't survive that. Can we just practice with father and prepare in the time we have before the king arrives, then I can be the first one to face him?"

"No, Eartheyes," he gently said. "Garzhvog isn't as big as Kulkarvek. Even if you attempted to take into account the extra size while practicing with him, it still wouldn't adequately prepare you for the king's speed and reflexes—which are enhanced by magic like ours—nor for the greater strength and width of his neck. We can't afford to have you lose. You _must_ defeat him. One wrong move and he'll snap your neck, which is still possible even with your armor. If you fail, I'll still die, but so will everyone else. All of us. Our sons. Our family. All of the Riders, all of our dragons.

"Galbatorix and his first dragon, along with two fellow Riders and their dragons, killed all of Kulkarvek's family and friends, which is what led to him killing Jarnunvösk. That was Kulkarvek's first encounter with men and dragons. The king has sworn in his wrath that he will never stop fighting until he has eradicated humans and dragons, so deep and fiery is his hatred after Galbatorix's cruelty. Since he can't be killed, it's no idle threat. And while he has been content to remain on his throne in the barrows of Anghelm, wallowing in abject misery, I have unintentionally incited him to war by taking you as my mate. King Kulkarvek _must_ be killed, and you are the only one with the ability to do it. If you do, the Urgralgra will recognize you as their rightful queen, just as the fighting rams in my village acknowledge you as their war chief. This is the only way there will ever be peace between our races."

"But I'll be alone!" Willow wailed. "What good will it do if you're not by my side? I can't . . ." She stopped, rephrasing her words to be honest. "I don't _want_ to live without you. And it feels as if I couldn't. I've lost everyone dear to me, Varhog. You have been a constant in my life longer than anyone but my father, and you filled the hole in my heart after he died. But you're so much more to me than he was, and you're so strong and steady. I've never imagined that anything would be able to hurt you. If you di—" She choked on the word. "If you leave, I'll be alone again, and I don't think I could bear it. I don't want to be alone anymore." She buried her face in his neck and sobbed, "I can't lose you. I can't . . ."

Varhog held her close, stroking her hair. "Shhh, Willow. I can imagine how hard this is for you. Losing you is the worst thing I can imagine, even worse than losing the babies. I would feel the same, but you won't be alone. You have the boys, and they need you more than anyone. You have my family, mother and father. They've been through this and they'll help you make it through." She shook her head, but he continued, "All of the Riders will look out for you, Eartheyes. Your family is bigger than ever before, and every member of it loves you as much as your real father and mother did."

"But it will seem so meaningless without you, Varhog! You're more important to me than any of them. And what about the boys? It has been so hard this past week to take care of them on my own. They've missed you so much! They'll be devastated and, what's worse, they won't fully understand. They need _you_ too! Every child needs their father! Is there no other way, Varhog? Please let us think of another way!"

"If there was _any_ other way, Willow, you know I would follow it. But I would never think of asking anyone to stand in my place. As your mate, it is my responsibility to protect you. And the king is coming because I married a human." He enfolded her back in his arms. "This is the trial," he gently said. "We knew it would be harder than anything we've ever faced, and those things were difficult enough. I'm heartbroken thinking what this will mean for you. I know what it would mean for me if I had to lose you, and I think I actually have the easier sacrifice to make. I will freely lay down my life to ensure your victory. That seems as natural to me as breathing and loving you, but I'm so sorry you'll have to carry on without me. So desperately sorry. We must find comfort in our knowledge that our separation—no matter how long it seems—will not be permanent. We have been promised that our love will one day reunite us for eternity, and then this trial will be so far behind us. I'm so sorry, Willow. So sorry. Can you see that this must be?"

As if to emphasize his point, Will giggled in his sleep, and Varhog finished, "For our sons, Eartheyes. You must do this for them, so they have a chance."

"Varhog," Willow mourned, pulling back once more and taking his face in her hands. "Varhog." She whimpered as her sadness threatened to overwhelm her, managing to gasp around the sobs, "They're the only reason strong enough. I would never agree to it to save myself."

Varhog saw her anguish in her eyes along with her acceptance and knew her heart was already broken. Then she kissed him, and he returned it, knowing their time to do so was now limited. He didn't know what to expect once he died, but he knew he wouldn't be able to love her like this. They didn't sleep the rest of the night, nor did they ever stop touching, not even when the babies awakened and needed her again.

-:-:-

The morning after he returned, Varhog shared all that had transpired in Anghelm with the rest of the Riders, his family, and the high queen.

After hearing the account, Eragon said, "This is worse than we could have feared. Kulkarvek's story differs from the way I first heard it told by my father in Carvahall so many years ago. He said that Galbatorix and his companions were ambushed while they slept, but he also said they made the trip recklessly, as if assured nothing could harm them. I wouldn't be surprised if Kulkarvek's tale is true and the three Riders sought out conflict with the Urgralgra, whom they undoubtedly hated and viewed as monsters, as we all regrettably have at some point or another. Save Willow, of course. The tale Galbatorix told the elders was most likely twisted from true events, for his mind was already lost to the dementia of devastation. He most likely remembered only what he wanted to, and by then his hatred against the Urgralgra for their perceived crimes was complete."

"The same could also be said for Kulkarvek, Firesword," Varhog argued. "He is equally as insane. His loss was of a similarly devastating nature. His recollection of the events has most likely also been warped. It may be that no one will ever know what truly happened when the two greatest threats to the peace of Alagaёsia lost all they held dear. At this point, it truly doesn't matter. Kulkarvek alone remains, and we must face him."

"What will we do?" Nasuada despaired. "If he can't be killed, we have a true dilemma. Countless lives will be lost and our enemy will never be defeated."

"That won't happen, Lady Nightstalker," Varhog firmly said. "He _can_ be killed in hand-to-hand fighting. The king marches from Anghelm to kill me for marrying a human, and to kill Willow and our sons. This fight is between me, Willow, and the king. We'll face Kulkarvek and resolve the matter. No one will needlessly die. Don't ask me for details. I won't give them. Just trust me that we'll settle this. King Kulkarvek will be vanquished." Though many pressed Varhog for his meaning, he would not elaborate—just as he had promised—and the discussion ended after that.

-:-:-

The following days passed in a blur. All thought of the Games was immediately abandoned as the Riders and people of Alagaёsia prepared for the coming threat. During the day, a Rider would remain in the sky some distance from Ilirea to keep watch for any sighting of Kulkarvek's approach. Grintuk and Breetuk arrived back within a few days, after visiting all of the human villages that would fall in the path of the king's march.

At the palace, Willow practiced with Varhog, Grintuk, and Garzhvog, perfecting a way for her to mount the Kull's backs without anything to spring from. Everyone in their close circle of friends and family guessed from Willow's efforts that she intended to fight Kulkarvek, but no one expressed their fears that Willow's arms and back might be crushed. Of the four who knew the secret, none let on of the abilities of her protective armor. They guarded that most carefully, knowing that if any word of it reached the king, she might lose the element of surprise that would ensure her success.

They celebrated the twins and Princess Lena's first birthday, and it was a prodigious affair, but all of the parents' enjoyment was muted in light of the impending conflict. Varhog played with the boys as much as he could every day, and they were always with him and Willow at the sparring grounds. They had been overjoyed to be reunited with their beloved father, but they didn't understand why he often cried while he smiled and played with them.

The anticipation that had preceded the Games was replaced with deep dread as the day for Kulkarvek's arrival neared.

* * *

 **A/N:** The following chapter contains a mature love scene.


	24. Making Love before War

24\. Making Love before War

Six days after the birthday celebration, the cry went up that Kulkarvek and his army of fighting rams were approaching. They would arrive on the morrow, and all preparatory activities ceased. Every family returned to the palace. Every couple returned to their rooms to enjoy the remainder of the day with the ones they loved.

Varhog and Willow played with their sons until they needed to eat and sleep, but _they_ did not then retire. Willow dressed in her lavender silk gown in the washroom before returning to Varhog in the bed chamber. He sat on the edge of the bed with his head bowed. When he heard the door open, he looked up and began to cry.

"You look as ravishing as ever in that," he whispered.

Willow walked to stand in front of him. "I wanted to dress up for the occasion. My last night with you. Will you dance with me?"

"I'll dress up too," he offered with a faint smile. "Just the way you like me to." He removed his shirt and stood, lifting her onto his bare feet and wrapping his arms around her.

"Sing our song," Willow requested, so Varhog did, and her tears began as his beautiful voice washed over her. She _loved_ his voice. She turned her face into his chest, inhaling deeply. His smell. She loved his smell.

"How do we possibly think we can prepare for this, Yelloweyes?" she wondered with deep sadness. "My heart is already broken. It already aches and misses you. My arms already feel empty, though you're still in them. How can I lose you, my beloved friend? My husband. Father of my sons. How can I go on?"

Varhog sobbed but said nothing, for there was no answer.

Willow looked up at him and, with desperate longing and sorrow, said "Make love to me, Varhog. All night."

"But you're already exhausted from this week," he objected. "You need your strength tomorrow, Eartheyes."

"I'll replenish it from the store in Diamondfire. Sunset and many of the other dragons on the Isle transferred energy to the diamond every day, just as Rhunön instructed. I know Black Thunder did the same with Drajavek. We'll have the energy we need. _Now_ we need to do this while we still can. A few hours will never make up for the years and decades I'll endure without you until we're reunited."

Varhog answered her with a kiss. Their expression ranged across the whole spectrum that night, beginning slowly and full of heartbroken anguish. It intensified until Willow donned her armor so Varhog could attempt to release some of the crushing fury he felt that their time would be so needlessly cut short.

When the babies finally awakened and needed to nurse, Willow knew she wouldn't be able to fight her exhaustion as the relaxation of nursing overtook her. She settled into Varhog's arms to enjoy his help feeding their sons one last time, turning her face to his and saying, "Varhog, I have a favor to ask."

"Anything, Eartheyes. I'll do anything for you."

"I want you to conduct one last experiment with me," she began. "I know I'll fall asleep as the boys nurse. I so often dream of making love when I sleep. It's my favorite dream. That experience has affected me on every possible level—consciously and subconsciously, physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually. Will you make love to me while I sleep? It's the only way I'll ever be able to enjoy it after tonight. My most sensory memories of our physical love will visit me while I sleep, and I know they'll be even stronger if I can actually enjoy the physical experience with my subconscious mind. Will you do this for me, though it might sound strange?"

"I'll do anything for you," Varhog repeated. "I'll make love to you if you fall asleep."

Reassured, Willow let her eyelids droop, keeping her face toward Varhog though her neck ached. She didn't care, and it didn't bother her long before she truly did drift off to sleep.

-:-:-

Varhog watched her slip away and then observed her and their sons for the next hour, not feeling rushed since it was a few hours before dawn, which was when the Riders and their allies planned to march out to meet Kulkarvek. They didn't want him entering the city or the camps, where so many citizens of Alagaёsia were staying as they had awaited the commencement of the Games, and where they had subsequently remained after learning of the threat. Many of the humans would have had to travel the road Kulkarvek followed in order to get back to their homes. Those who lived south of Ilirea had been invited to return home, but many chose to stay. They remembered meeting Willow and Varhog the previous summer during their goodwill visits and wanted to support them in this conflict.

Varhog forced himself to focus on his family in the time left to him. The twins had slept so long without waking to nurse that Varhog knew if he left them, they would nurse again in an hour before needing to go potty and would then continue to sleep until well after he and Willow left. They had arranged for Trayin to bring her cub to their room and stay with the boys until the conflict had been resolved.

He studied every detail of their beloved faces. At age one, the twins looked as big as most human two-year-olds, and they were tall and strong. And yet they were the kindest, gentlest boys one could imagine, influenced by the tender love of their mother and the perfect example of their father. They would wrestle and play as any boys would, but never to the point of violence or pain. With help from their attentive parents, they knew when they needed to stop before going too far and were already learning these patterns of self-control. With the other babies, who were far smaller, they were considerate and careful.

Willow was more gorgeous to Varhog than ever before. The feeling only strengthened with every passing day. Their happiness and love had deepened her goodness, and it shone in the light of her countenance. But her face looked sad and drawn, as it had since she had learned what would be expected of her. As Rahna had warned, the hardest test they could imagine—even being required to lose one another—was upon them. Varhog clung to the hope—and knew Willow did too—offered by Rahna's promise, that if they would bear this trial as well as the others, their suffering would come to an end.

By the end of the hour, Will's mouth had opened in relaxation and Willow's nipple was only partly inside. But Var still had a good latch, and as if he knew the very minute the hour turned, he began suckling again. The milk let down in both of her breasts and began dripping into Will's mouth, reminding him of his purpose there, and Varhog helped Will regain his full grasp by moving his arm closer.

When the boys were done, he moved Will over to the bed. With that arm free, Varhog lifted Willow off his chest and slid his leg between them, gently laying Willow against the pillows and keeping Var in his other arm.

Varhog walked with his son to the washroom and knelt in front of the toilet. He set Var on his feet leaning into his chest, lowered his pants, and cued him to relieve himself. Though Var was fast asleep, the cue sound helped him relax and he promptly relieved his bladder while Varhog pointed the stream into the toilet. When Var was done, Varhog pulled up his pants and carried him back to the bed. He repeated the process with Will, and when the boys were comfortably sleeping, Varhog returned his attention to Willow.

Before fulfilling his promise to her, Varhog spent a few minutes writing a letter and preparing his final gift. He slid it under one of the many pillows, hoping Willow wouldn't discover it until she returned to the palace later that day.

Then he knelt on the bed. Willow's request _had_ at first sounded strange to him, but he had since thought about it and felt he knew the best way he could fulfill it. Feeling no awkwardness, Varhog gently lifted her onto his lap, resting her back along his forearm and cupping her head in his hand. Her hair cascaded all around his arm.

How he loved her beautiful, soft, sweet-smelling hair. Varhog was glad Willow was asleep because his tears started then, earlier than he expected, and he was suddenly thankful she had given him this opportunity to worship her by himself, without even _her_ conscious observation of it, knowing he would only become more emotional.

Varhog started his experiment by caressing her body, fearing he would awaken her too soon if he began with her face. He tenderly ran his free hand all along her skin, tracing the pattern of stretch marks that he knew she hated, though he never had. He smiled faintly at the memory of the day they had imitated one another's voices, and it intensified his grief. How he would miss smiling and laughing with her. He knew Willow wouldn't smile or laugh again for many days after today, and the world would be a darker place because of it.

Varhog became aroused without needing to involve his mouth, so he lifted her and gently joined their bodies, realizing for the first time how much Willow always helped him. It seemed harder than usual and he worried about hurting her, but her soft sigh reassured him that Willow enjoyed it as much in sleep as she did when awake.

His tears rained down to her chest. He would miss the completing feeling of this beloved moment and knew Willow would too. The rumble of pleasure ignited in his chest, and Varhog did nothing to muffle it, knowing it was a central part of her sensory enjoyment of this experience. Her arms were relaxed between their bodies because he didn't want them to hang behind her, and her hands now twitched as if she wished she could move them to his chest where the sounds and vibrations were loudest.

Varhog choked back a sob and whispered, "I love you, Willow. I adore you, my beautiful, sweet mate. You have always accepted every part of me, even the parts that make me so different from you and any other human. And I know you love me all the more because of them. Thank you for teaching me of this beautiful, unconditional, pure love, and for allowing me to feel it in the brief time we had together. I will always be with you, even when I'm gone. Somehow I'll always be near."

He then moved his mouth to her breasts, unsure what to expect as far as bringing about her release. This combination of factors always led to it when she was awake, but this was their first time conducting this experiment and they would have no opportunity to repeat it.

Willow unconsciously began participating in the experiment, and Varhog guessed it was working. She could surely feel the amazing pleasure this interaction always provoked, and her subconscious mind was enjoying it more vividly than ever before as her physical body experienced it through his efforts. Varhog was so grateful he could do this one last thing for Willow and perhaps, in a small way, lessen the crushing grief and emptiness she would endure following his death.

As always, Varhog knew the moment her release happened. Though she had remained asleep throughout, Willow still cried out softly and gripped his body with her fingers. He allowed his own climax to happen at the same time, clinging to her through what he was sure would be the last physical experience of this powerful sensation for countless years and decades.

When it was over, Varhog moved his mouth to hers, not worried now if he woke her up because they needed to arise before Trayin arrived. He kissed her lips and every surface of her face, neck, and hair. As he kissed her eyelids, they fluttered, and he moved back to her mouth, allowing his kiss to become more involved as she returned to wakefulness.

Willow startled awake and immediately realized what was happening. She reciprocated the kiss, opening her mind to Varhog's and circling her arms around his neck.

When her tears began to mingle with his, Varhog looked at her eyes and saw that they were of gratitude. But she continued her feverish kiss, and Varhog felt through their shared awareness that she wanted one last conscious experience of their physical love before being denied it indefinitely.

"Thank you, Varhog," she breathed through her tears after finally pulling away. "Thank you for doing that. I know feeling your warmth and strength in my dreams will carry me through endless cold and lonely nights. Hopefully it will be enough to counter the nightmares I'm sure to have after what we must face today. Shall we arise? I can see by the sky outside that it's nearly time to meet the others."

They quickly dressed, wanting to be ready when Trayin showed up. Varhog wore no armor, for he would fight in only a loin cloth. He pulled on that undergarment, his leather pants, and long-sleeved shirt, followed by his socks, boots, and sword, which was really only a formality.

Willow didn't take much longer, also dressing in her usual clothing, though her steel-silk armor was a notable exception.

When Trayin still hadn't arrived, she asked Varhog, "Will you help me with my hair?"

They walked to the mirror, and Varhog picked up the hairbrush. As he began to run it through her hair with practiced motions, Willow smiled. It was slightly teasing but mostly solemn. "I want to look my best when I become queen of the Urgralgra."

Varhog returned the smile, but only just. Once finished with that task, he set the brush down and performed the spell to curl her hair under in graceful waves, holding it in his hands and lowering his face to smell it.

A soft knock at the door alerted them to Trayin's arrival. She carried her three-month-old son in her arms and quietly entered the room after Varhog opened the door for her.

Varhog then went to his sons, who were soundly sleeping on the bed, leaning over to kiss each boy and whispering, "I love you, Will. I love you, Var. Remember how much I love playing with you. I'll miss you, my sweet sons. Be good for mama. She'll need you more than ever." Tears spilled from his eyes onto their soft hair.

Trayin noticed the exchange with concern but said nothing as Varhog approached and gave her a tight embrace. "I love you, Trayin," he said. "Farewell." He walked to Willow's side and took her hand.

Trayin's mate waited for them in the hallway. He would be marching behind Willow today, along with all of the fighting rams of the Bolvek clan, who had arrived a couple of days before. Her wolves had arrived even earlier than the rams.

They didn't have time to say goodbye to everyone in Varhog's family, but he insisted on stopping by Myrin and Tarhvek's room. When Tarhvek answered, he obviously assumed they were there to collect him, but Varhog stepped around him and went to his favorite younger sister. No one else in the family was privy to Varhog's intentions that day, but Myrin could clearly see how much he had been crying.

Varhog wrapped his arms around her and said, "I love you, Myrin. Farewell."

"Varhog?" Myrin worried.

"Don't ask," Varhog pleaded. "Just remember I love you." He quickly embraced Myrek, Rinna, young Tarhvek, and his nephew Varhog, whose cheeks were already tear-stained after bidding their father farewell. "Goodbye, children. I love you."

Willow also embraced Myrin. "You won't become a widow today," she promised. "Tarhvek will return by lunchtime." She knelt to hug the children. "I love you, children," she whispered. "Your father will be back later today." She kissed each one before standing and rejoining hands with Varhog, who guided her out of the room. Tarhvek followed them, closing the door behind himself.


	25. Queen of the Urgralgra

25\. Queen of the Urgralgra

More friends soon joined Varhog, Willow, and their two brothers-in-law as the Riders and their kin staying in the palace left their rooms to march out to battle. When Eragon fell in next to them, his face sorrowful, Arya was right by his side. Nasuada and Myrintuk likewise accompanied their husbands, though they were not Riders. None of these women would be parted from their mates, though Eragon and Murtagh had zealously striven to convince their wives to remain behind for their children's sakes. But they hadn't been successful, and the women had already made arrangements for their babies to be cared for by Varhog's sisters should they fall that day.

Hanin and Maehrí as well as Grintuk and Breetuk all merged with the growing throng. Knilf came alone, for Greta was so much smaller than Breetuk that though her baby was due at roughly the same time, her pregnancy affected her far more and she had a difficult time walking and standing for long periods of time without needing rest. Knilf's normal cheer was nowhere to be found as he walked next to his fellow Riders.

When Willow noticed his grim expression, she whispered, "You'll see Greta again, Knilf. You will meet your child." Knilf glanced up with a look of questioning surprise. Willow only smiled faintly and looked away.

Roran appeared with his old hammer in his belt, shadowed by several villagers from Carvahall. There were even more people in the courtyard, and once Willow and Varhog emerged, everyone fell in line behind them. Willow truly did look queenly—with her pink-orange steel-silk armor laced up her throat, Diamondfire belted to her waist, and her hair flowing down her back—and no one save Varhog knew how fitting that was.

As they silently made their way through the city, throngs of armored men swelled their ranks. By the time they reached the camps surrounding the city, hundreds of men were following Willow, Varhog, and the Riders. As they passed through the camps, elves, dwarves and Urgralgra fighting rams also joined their numbers. Beyond the outskirts of the farthest tents, the dragons finally descended, for they had been flying above since the group left the courtyard.

The wolves also came forward, and Willow was amazed by how many had arrived as she greeted them with mental words of thanks and gentle embraces. Steel's pack had grown with the birth of his cubs, but there were dozens of wolves gathered together. When she asked Steel about it, he told her that many wolves had joined his pack as they ran to her assistance, for Willow's fame had spread far beyond the reaches of Varhog's village and the surrounding forest.

Once the dragons landed, every Rider climbed to sit on their own dragon's back except for Willow and Varhog. Nothing would part them now when they knew death would so soon. They rode on Black Thunder, who also wished to make the most of the final moments he had with his Rider, and Sunset walked next to them. The dragons marched in a long row at the front of the vast assemblage of races, leading the peoples of Alagaёsia to face the last great threat to their peace.

When they arrived at the predetermined location—an immense plain north of Ilirea past the ford of the Ramr River—the sun was just beginning to peak over the outcropping hills that bordered the plain on the east. Here the land formed a gradual depression. Those at the front were the lowest, while everyone behind rose away from them. The setting would allow most of the warriors in each army to observe the events as they unfolded.

Tomath took to the skies to determine the position of Kulkarvek and his forces. When he landed, he reported that the Urgal army would arrive within the hour.

Not long after, the army from Ilirea could make out the approaching enemy on the horizon. A great cloud of dust also bespoke their imminent coming, since the wasteland over which they now traveled was dry from the summer heat.

Willow felt the tangible fear from the army behind her and Varhog. Next to Galbatorix, Kulkarvek was the most dreaded tyrant in the land. He was equally if not more mysterious. Few had ever beheld his grisly appearance and lived to speak of it. Many of the peoples of Alagaёsia actually wondered if he really existed, so long had he stewed within the confines of his dreary home so far to the north of the rest of the land.

Willow and Varhog, however, were perfectly calm. They knew how this conflict would end and that none of these people supporting them would die. But Willow sensed the anxiety, so she abruptly stood in the saddle, turning around to face the army while Varhog held her legs. Everyone could see her, for Black Thunder was in the middle of the row of dragons and was the tallest.

Magnifying her voice with magic, Willow shouted, "Peoples of Alagaёsia, do not fear! My mate and I will be forever grateful for your courage and support as we face this conflict, but none here will perish. This matter will be settled by Varhog and myself. We are the reason this terrible fate has befallen us. Our union is unacceptable in the eyes of the king of the Urgralgra, but today we will put an end to his murderous reign and peace will finally be free to exist between _all_ of the races, including the Urgralgra and the rest. Whatever you do, do not interfere in our efforts! King Kulkarvek cannot be killed by weapons or magic, and any intervention will only ensure unnecessary harm or your untimely deaths. Take heart!"

Willow ended her stirring speech, which was met with a loud cheer. Rather than sitting, she descended from Black Thunder's back, Varhog following right behind. Kulkarvek was almost there, and the couple walked away from the dragons so the king wouldn't be so near their friends when he stopped. The other Dragon Riders and Varhog's family also distanced themselves from the army behind so they would be firsthand witnesses to whatever transpired.

When King Kulkarvek was only a dozen paces away, he came to an abrupt halt, and the hundreds of fighting rams behind him did as well. Varhog and Willow saw that he had enlisted recruits along the way and guessed many had been constrained against their wills. This was clear enough when they recognized Grintuk's sire and his brothers-in-law, who sadly regarded them as they stood behind Kulkarvek.

Plainly, however, most of the rams shared the king's deep hatred, for as Varhog had guessed, Kulkarvek had spouted all manner of lies to portray his and Willow's union in the worst possible light. Though many of these rams were from villages that Murtagh, Nasuada, Breetuk, and Grintuk had visited the previous summer—which had helped soften relations between the humans and the Urgralgra—no Urgal would immediately favor a union between one of their race's most honored rams and a human woman. These rams glared at Varhog and Willow with only slightly less hatred and revulsion than Kulkarvek.

Kulkarvek sneered at Varhog and Willow, and while Willow translated in the minds of her nearest companions who wouldn't understand, the king roared in Urgralish, "So you have gathered an army together, have you? Well, thank you! That will make my work of destroying the humans all the quicker, as I won't have to visit so many of their disgusting villages and kill them in their beds. And the more I can kill of the other races who have also long feared and hated the Urgralgra, the better. And all the dragons of Riders assembled as one? You really have made my work easy for me. None will remain standing today but those rams by my side who withstand death through the conflict. Even the Urgralgra among you will die for their treachery!"

"You are wrong, grandfather," Varhog said, exactly as he had to Garzhvog after announcing his intention of marrying Willow. "No one will die today except for me."

Willow heard several gasps from behind them as Varhog continued, "And you. As I promised in my last words to you in Anghelm, you were wrong on all counts but one, and that was that I would die. But Willow won't. Nor will our sons. Nor will all the humans. Nor will our friends. Nor will our dragons. I hope you have prepared to meet your demise, though you hardly deserve it. Galbatorix's punishment was just. You _should_ remain to suffer in the land for all time, and I would allow that if you weren't so entirely bent on this ridiculous objective of senseless murder and destruction. However, since you _are_ so determined, the time has arrived for your horrible reign to come to an end. I challenge you to a contest of single, hand-to-hand combat. It's the only way you can be killed. If I triumph, I will be recognized as king of the Urgralgra. If you triumph, you'll see what happens next."

"You dare defy me, _grandson!_ " Kulkarvek bellowed, once again spitting the word 'grandson' as a curse. "For your insolence you will die! _Then_ I will kill your hideous mate and everyone who stands behind you!" The king was clothed only in his loin cloth, needing no armor to protect him from slashing weapons. He stepped forward to indicate his readiness.

Willow was so grateful Varhog had shared his intentions with her in advance. She calmly stood by his side, tears streaming down her face. But she wasn't hysterical, as she would have been had she learned right before Varhog walked forward to face the king that he would be killed right in front of her eyes.

Before saying his final farewell to her, Varhog turned and walked to Myrintuk. "Goodbye, mother," he said, giving her a tender embrace. "I love you. I only had time to say goodbye to Trayin and Myrin. Tell the others I love them. This is my final way of showing it."

Myrintuk's tears fell swiftly, but she had no time to respond before Varhog moved over to Garzhvog and did the same. Breetuk made her way over, and Varhog hugged her.

"Farewell, Bree. I love you. Take good care of your cub and Grintuk."

"No, Varhog!" Breetuk cried. "You don't have to do this!"

"Yes I do, Bree. I must make this sacrifice. You will see why. Be brave and don't interfere." Varhog raised his voice so all of his family, closest friends, and especially Black Thunder would hear. "Do not attempt to avenge me if I fall. Only _one_ has that right." Willow knew they understood his meaning, but he wasn't going to give Kulkarvek any idea of what to expect.

Then Varhog returned to Willow, enfolding her in his arms as she circled her own around his neck and pressed into him.

"I love you, Yelloweyes," Willow breathed. "I'm so honored I had this brief time with you. I will never forget it, nor you. Your sacrifice will not be in vain. I will triumph so our sons will not lose both of their parents today." Her tears had never ceased, and they mingled with Varhog's as he leaned down to kiss her.

"Willow," he cried, "to say I love you doesn't do my feelings justice, but I don't have time to go into it. I love you, beautiful mate of mine. I don't know what my existence will be like after today, but I'm sure I will never forget you. Tell our sons—" He choked on his next words.

"I'll tell them, sweetheart," Willow promised. "I will explain, and they'll understand in time. They will love their noble father all the more when they do. I'll share my memories of you with them. We will always remember, and love, and miss you more than I can possibly say, but I'll be strong. I have a family now to help me. Your family." She was beginning to lose her composure, so Varhog kissed her again, and they both infused it with all the love they could, knowing it was their last.

When Varhog released her, Willow whimpered to stifle a sob and bit her lip to still the tremors, quickly running her hands over his face and around his horns. "Farewell, Varhog."

"Willow," he whispered his last word, cupping her face in his hand before turning, unbelting Drajavek, and undressing to his undergarments.

Willow watched Varhog until he stepped forward, then she walked over to Tarhvek. "Hold me back," she muttered. "Just in case." Her brother's eyes had tears in them, but he wrapped his arms around her chest and shoulders as she leaned back into him.

Varhog's voice entered her mind, instructing, _Get in your fighting mind, Willow. And stay with me. It is essential for your success._

 _I will be with you until the end,_ she replied, grateful her mental voice didn't quaver with the overpowering emotions she felt.

Kulkarvek had begun bouncing on the balls of his feet at what he perceived as a tedious, unnecessary exchange of farewells. "Finally," he shouted when Varhog stepped forward to face him. He magnified his voice with magic, since many were too far back to hear what was happening in the clearing between the two armies. "If this ram bests me, he will succeed me as king of the Urgralgra," the king jeered in a mocking tone. Then in his normal terrifying volume he finished, "Let us end this!"

Varhog said, _I will tire him as much as possible. I think I'll use your technique on him at the end, but that_ will _be the end. He will be able to subdue me quickly from there, and it will be so effortless for him that it will reinforce his sense of invincibility. When you jump up, he will think to overcome you just as easily._

This he communicated through his first several dodges, which he made far earlier than needed as he got accustomed to Kulkarvek's enormous size. Though the king was fast, Varhog's smaller size helped him be even quicker, just as Willow was when she faced him. Varhog looked so puny next to Kulkarvek, who towered three feet above him and whose enormous blood-red horns were more than three times larger than Varhog's.

Willow had never been more grateful for the emotionless clarity of her fighting mind. She observed everything about Varhog's maneuvers with detached efficiency, already knowing from Varhog when she would need to dodge the king's lunges.

Kulkarvek was clearly unaccustomed to facing an opponent who could evade him, but Varhog easily continued to do so, which only fueled the king's fury. They danced back and forth for indefinite minutes, Kulkarvek never showing any signs of tiring.

Willow knew how she would reach the king's back, having practiced her technique numerous times with Grintuk and Garzhvog. She guessed Varhog would use the same tactic, but he told her he wouldn't so as not to give Kulkarvek a clue.

Varhog then said, _He doesn't appear to be tiring, Eartheyes, but you now know how to dodge him, so I'm going in. Pay close attention. You must know how long to hold on before he dies, which is most likely sometime after consciousness fades. You have never maintained your grip for that long._

He ended his message, crouching down before Kulkarvek's next lunge. The king aimed lower and when Varhog rolled to the side on the ground, the king reached after him. Varhog regained his feet as he completed his roll, springing up to the king's lowered back. His landing didn't come close to knocking Kulkarvek off balance, but the king couldn't reach to pull Varhog off, as was always the case when Willow did the same.

Varhog immediately cinched his arms around Kulkarvek's neck while tucking his legs under him. The king swung his massive head to the side, but Varhog's horn protected his face. Kulkarvek seemed to be feeling the effects of Varhog's powerful arms, and Willow felt a tendril of hope that her mate would triumph. But it was cruelly smothered as the king raised his huge fist and smashed Varhog's front forearm.

Varhog didn't cry out in the agony Willow felt through their mental link, and she tensed in Tarhvek's arms, reaching up to tightly grip them. Varhog couldn't keep the forward arm in place, and it dangled limply over the king's shoulder. But Varhog hung on with his other arm, and Willow sensed that he hoped to weaken the king before she had to face him.

Kulkarvek repeated his attack, crushing Varhog's other arm just as decisively. He couldn't maintain his grip after that, and he slid his feet down to catch himself on the ground, unsteadily backing up without his arms to aid in maintaining his balance.

Willow's breathing sped hysterically, and she strained to see through her blinding tears. There was nothing she could have done to prepare herself to see Varhog die like this. He was going to be brutally murdered by his own grandfather right in front of her eyes. Kulkarvek alone understood the terror she was going through. His own mate had been murdered in an equally cruel and needless way before his very eyes.

The king advanced quickly, and this time Varhog's evasion was too slow. Kulkarvek crushed him to his chest, and Willow screamed for Varhog, who still made no sound as his whole torso buckled under the king's arms.

Willow was aware of Myrintuk's cry of protest from behind her. "Father! No!"

But Kulkarvek was oblivious. He defiantly glared Willow in the eyes as he twisted Varhog's broken body around and turned his attack against him. With one powerful arm around his neck, he held Varhog off the ground and began strangling him. Varhog's chest looked deformed, deep bruises blossoming forth as innumerable injuries bled under his hide.

As she felt Varhog's excruciating pain, Willow began moaning, "No, no, no, no, no," straining now against Tarhvek's arms. But he held her back with implacable strength.

The king was infinitely stronger than Willow, and his effort took such a brief time.

Before he lost consciousness, Varhog weakly thought, _I love you, Willow. Fight for our sons. I'm so sor—_ But then his eyes slid shut as his mind went black.

Now Breetuk gasped in despair and in her state of heightened awareness, Willow felt the stunned disbelief emanating from the Riders. Black Thunder rumbled ominously, though he obediently refrained from interfering, as Varhog had requested.

Though Willow could feel that Varhog wasn't yet dead, it was only a matter of minutes. In that time, she fully understood for the first time why Varhog had to die in order for her to succeed. Though many of her loved ones had passed away, Willow had never witnessed another person's death from this emotionless mental state. If she hadn't been able to feel the nearly imperceptible shift from unconsciousness to lifelessness, she no doubt would have released her grip too early, thereby allowing Kulkarvek opportunity to recover.

Those few minutes dragged by like hours, and Kulkarvek maintained his grip throughout until Willow felt the subtle difference. One moment Varhog was still there though unconscious, and the next he was gone. Willow perceived him no longer, and she gasped in shock as Black Thunder's agonized keen of loss confirmed her deepest fear.

Willow's moans evolved into screams. "No! Let him go! He's already dead!"

The king's malevolent glare had never left her, nor did it now. He shifted Varhog's lifeless body until he held Varhog's horns in either hand. Then Kulkarvek wrenched to one side, instantly snapping Varhog's neck.

Willow heard several of the male Riders' outraged exclamations at this unnecessarily vicious finale, but the triumphant bellows of Kulkarvek's supporters quickly drowned them out as the king carelessly dropped Varhog to the ground, where he crumpled in a mangled heap, and kicked his body toward her.

"You want your mate back?" the king taunted. "Come get him."

Tarhvek finally released Willow, and a desperate sob left her throat as she stumbled forward to collapse by Varhog's body. Using energy from the diamond in her sword to strengthen her, Willow straightened Varhog's twisted form until he was lying on his back, his neck at a horrible angle. She gently grasped his horns, turning his head in a loving manner drastically opposite what the king had just done. Willow couldn't believe that the Urgals who shared Kulkarvek's hatred were celebrating the murder of the greatest person she had ever known, as their continued cheering demonstrated.

"Varhog," she hopelessly muttered. "Varhog." She used magic to heal his broken bones before his body could begin to harden, though it didn't work as it would have with a living body. The bones only roughly fused together, but Willow hoped it would at least make him easier to carry away.

When that work was done, she slumped over his chest, trying to savor the last warmth in his still body. "Varhog," she whispered. "I'm grateful you are no longer in pain."

He had closed his beautiful yellow eyes as he went unconscious, and Willow moved her face up to kiss each eyelid. "Yelloweyes. My beloved friend. Thank you for loving me. You showed it in the most powerful way one can just now. The loss of your life will not be a waste. Goodbye, sweetheart." She kissed his lips—which already felt cold—then stood, unbuckled her sword, and stepped over Varhog to face Kulkarvek.

"Are you prepared to join him, drajl?" the king spat at Willow.

"No, grandfather," Willow said in Urgralish. The king couldn't hide his surprise at her command of his native tongue as Willow continued, "I'm not. But _you_ had best be. Varhog offered his life to save me and our sons. His sacrifice will not be in vain. I challenge you now to a contest of single, hand-to-hand combat. I _will_ triumph and succeed you as queen of the Urgralgra."

Kulkarvek laughed loudly and mockingly. "I am _not_ your grandfather, drajl!" he shouted. "You _dare_ challenge me to a duel of hand-to-hand strength? You _dare_ imply that you will rule the Urgralgra? Such an abomination will never be tolerated, just as your union with this ram never could be. They will never accept you. And you will _never_ defeat me."

"Yes, I will," Willow disagreed. "And in time the Urgralgra will accept me. As Varhog did. As your daughter. As Nar Garzhvog. And as all of these fighting rams behind me. When the vengeful hatred you cling to dies with you, the Urgralgra will be released from decades of needless conflict and war."

"You accuse me of acting out of vengeance?" Kulkarvek screamed. "Are you not now doing the same?"

"Not at all," Willow said. "I'm going to kill you to end your awful tyranny. I do not hate you, grandfather. We are more alike than you will ever have the chance to realize, for you now must die. But that is always the way between enemies. Or between ourselves and the ones we perceive as enemies. We are so much more alike than different, but we focus on those differences to the exclusion of all else and it blinds us to the beautiful similarities."

"Your pain will destroy you!" the king hatefully raged.

"Not unless I let it," Willow replied. "You have allowed your pain to destroy you until you have become your own worst enemy. In brutally murdering my mate right in front of my eyes for no other reason than that you hate me, you have done exactly what Galbatorix did to you."

Kulkarvek seemed convicted by Willow's piercing words as he cast a sorrowful glance toward Myrintuk. But when he returned his eyes to Willow, his gaze once again hardened.

"Is that so?" he sneered. "Well, fine with me. I don't mind playing your little game before I kill you as easily as I did your valiant mate. Why are you dressed in such a fine garment? Did you not know you came to fight?"

"Of course!" Willow replied with a bright smile and sudden lightness that shocked the king. "I wanted to look my best when I became queen of the Urgralgra so I wore the nicest thing I own. It's one of my favorite colors because of how similar it is to my dragon's hue. Announce to your army that I will succeed you when I bring you down and that they will then answer to me."

The king suddenly seemed wary of Willow and her unflinching confidence, but Willow knew that his curse wouldn't allow him to surrender and that he would fight until the bitter end.

In his loudest voice yet Kulkarvek bellowed to his army, "This human woman will succeed me as rightful ruler of and queen over all the Urgralgra _if_ she defeats me in single combat and kills me with her bare hands. _When_ she fails, this battle will begin and none will remain standing save those fighting on my side."

Willow grinned, knowing it would infuriate Kulkarvek. She wished for this to be over. For the first time in her life, she _wanted_ to end someone's life. "Come now, grandfather," she chided. "Are such theatrics really necessary? You might have left off that last bit, for I will now defeat you."

She stepped forward, already in her fighting mind, and prepared to make her move on his first lunge. King Kulkarvek would be the last Urgralgra ram she ever faced and the first and only she ever killed.

The king recklessly lunged, and Willow neatly dodged, grabbing his long white braid and using it to swiftly scale his broad back. Her arms were around his neck before he had even begun to reach around, and she tucked her head down to safety as he began bashing her shoulders with his horns and her arms with his fists. Neither attack harmed her, for her armor protected everywhere it covered, as it was so masterfully designed to do.

Willow's arms were not nearly as strong as Varhog's, but they were stronger than ever before. She tightened her grip as each of Kulkarvek's punches drove her forearms deeper into his neck.

Desperate choking sounds struggled to escape Kulkarvek's chest, but they were trapped by her arms. He dropped to his knees, and Willow sensed him prepare to fall backwards. As he landed on top of her, his horns sank into the ground, preventing him from turning his head or bashing it backward. Willow moved her head to this safe space between the back of his head and the ground.

He crushed her legs when he fell, and then Kulkarvek repeatedly smashed into her, desperate to free himself. Willow whimpered in agony but maintained her grip, for her arms and torso were perfectly fine. She felt her knees and leg bones shatter more with every powerful thrust of his body, but he was weakening.

Willow trained her mind on his consciousness, glad she had waited so long. The king's mind was a tangled, despairing maze of darkness, hate, and insanity, all of which was overshadowed by fear and agony as his life threatened to leave him.

As her perception of his awareness faded, Willow sadly whispered, "I forgive you, grandfather. I'm sorry." The last emotion she felt in the king's mind was profound relief.

Willow maintained her grip far longer, for she knew that Kulkarvek was not yet dead. She waited until she felt the same shift from unconsciousness to lifelessness that she had when Varhog died, and it took much longer than she would have guessed, even longer than it had with Varhog.

But it finally arrived. Kulkarvek was dead.

As she loosened her hold of the king's neck, Willow weakly cried for help. She was pinned under him, her legs completely mutilated. Before she would have thought possible, the king's thousand pound weight left her, and Willow was unprepared to see Grintuk Sr., along with several Urgal rams she didn't recognize, kneeling around her.

Their faces full of relief and gratitude, the rams raised their fists to their foreheads in silent tribute. Grintuk Sr. said, "We thank you, Nar Willow, for releasing us from Kulkarvek's tyranny. You are our queen."

Willow was aware of the profound silence hanging over the Urgal army. Even those who had shared Kulkarvek's hatred now felt compelled to honor her as their queen, according to their former king's command. But many clearly shared Grintuk Sr.'s feelings and were thankful they no longer needed to fear Kulkarvek's wrath.

The Urgal rams stood and withdrew as the Dragon Riders congregated around Willow. Arya and Maehrí performed the next service, which was to begin the arduous, painful task of healing Willow's maimed legs. She guided them with mental imagery of when she had healed Steel's crushed skull. He and Boldclaw made their way over, pressing their wet snouts to her cheeks as they provided energy to the female elves. Willow remained silent and unmoving during the agonizing healing experience, for the numbness of losing Varhog began to set in. Her task was complete. She had slain King Kulkarvek. She was queen of the Urgralgra.


	26. Numb

26\. Numb

The healing process took a long while. Every bone and joint in Willow's legs was destroyed, and the two elves relied on borrowed energy—from the wolves and dragons—long before they were finished. When they were, Garzhvog helped Willow to her feet.

She felt a dim sense of surprise flit across her awareness when the elf smith Rhunön suddenly stood in front of her, wrapping her in a tight embrace. "Willow," she rasped. "I'm so sorry. I never thought you would have to lose Varhog when using my armor for its intended purpose. Oh my dear, you were magnificent, but how will you bear this?"

"Rhunön?" Willow muttered in confusion. "How are you here?"

"It's an old trick of my trade," Rhunön sadly explained. "I attach a spell to every sword I forge that allows me to travel by magic to the location of that blade should its bearer fall in battle. But I've never used it before. When I felt the pull from Drajavek, my heart broke imagining how that would affect you. I came immediately to learn what I could and see if I could help. Can I? Is there anything I can do?"

"I don't know, honored one," Willow replied in a distant way. "Stay for the funeral? It really doesn't matter to me. Thank you for the honor of coming for Varhog. I know he was grateful that your armor allowed me to triumph today." She glanced down at Kulkarvek's body. "Now he can't ever kill anyone again."

Willow then moved her eyes and was vaguely aware that the sun hung slightly higher in the sky. Something in the back of her mind reminded her that the twins would be missing her. With her eyes glued to Varhog's motionless form, Willow magnified her voice and shouted over the Urgal army, "King Kulkarvek is dead, laid low by my own hands. I, Willow of the Dragon Riders, am rightful queen of the Urgralgra and I now declare this battle over. Everyone may return to their homes or Ilirea. My dwelling will not be in Anghelm but in the Bolvek village with my tribe. I will eventually visit every Urgralgra village, but it will be some time before I can come. My mate was killed today and we have two small sons. I'll need to recover and become accustomed to caring for them without his help. His funeral and burial will be tomorrow in Ilirea. Any who wish to honor him are invited. Come pay your respects to the hero who loved us enough to lay down his life on our behalf."

Tears coursed down her cheeks as she repeated the message in the common tongue for the army from Ilirea, omitting the sections about her home and visits to the Urgralgra.

Willow slumped against Garzhvog, who immediately scooped her up. Black Thunder approached the small group of Riders and Urgals at the scene of the fighting and communicated, _I wish to carry my Rider's body back to Ilirea. Can he be secured to my belly?_

Eragon and Murtagh had done this very thing with Arya's comatose body after they had rescued her from Gil'ead. While Varhog's brothers held him up, the human brothers swiftly attached Varhog's body to Black Thunder's belly.

Black Thunder said to Grintuk, _Remember Drajavek. You can carry it as easily as Varhog._ Grintuk bent and retrieved the huge black sword.

Willow's eyes never left her husband's still body. She asked Garzhvog to walk with her in such a way that she would always be able to see Varhog, registering nothing else about the trip back to the palace.

When next she was aware, Black Thunder stopped in the courtyard. Only a few hours had passed since they left. The fighting had taken even less time than the talking. The longest activity had been walking to and from the city.

Someone fetched a stretcher from the resident doctor, which Grintuk expanded and reinforced with magic so it would hold Varhog's huge body. Then they untied and transferred him to the new carrier.

As they followed Varhog's brothers, bearing the stretcher between them, Garzhvog whispered, "Where do you want him, Willow?"

"Our room," Willow tonelessly answered.

Once they were inside the palace corridors, word of their arrival preceded them. Myrin came out into the hallway, her eyes searching for Tarhvek. When she saw that he was well, her gaze dropped to the stretcher and her face fell. She covered her mouth with one hand, clutching her gut with the other. Tarhvek approached her, and she fell into his arms.

"Varhog?" Myrin whispered in shock. Willow's eyes skimmed over her as Garzhvog passed, but she barely noticed Myrin's grief. She was too numb with her own.

In the emotionless part of her mind, Willow knew her babies would immediately want to nurse. She hoped they would be anxious enough for her milk and that it was close enough to their nap time that they would quickly fall asleep and not notice their father at first. She needed time to prepare for that.

Eragon had enough presence of mind to recognize that they would need a place to lay the body when they arrived in Willow's room, so he, Arya, and the other elf Riders swiftly moved several tables from adjoining chambers into Willow's before the entourage arrived, lining them up end to end to create a resting place of sufficient length.

To make it through the doorway, the four rams holding the stretcher at its corners rearranged themselves. Two stepped away altogether, while those remaining grasped both handles at the stretcher's head and foot. As they began to enter, Trayin stood from her location on the floor with the twins, gasping as her confusion about the elves and tables gave way to understanding. She stared incredulously at Varhog's dead body, leaning into her mate when he walked over to comfort her.

The twins looked around in surprise at the large group of people suddenly entering the room after a morning of peace and quiet. Willow slid out of Garzhvog's arms and knelt in front of the boys so they wouldn't look toward the tables where their father's body was being laid.

"Mama!" the twins cried together, standing and patting her chest. "Miwk, mama. Pwease? Have miwk?"

"Yes, boys," Willow replied, attempting to infuse _any_ emotion into her voice. "You may have your milk. Let's lie on the bed so you can also have your nap." She looked imploringly at Grintuk and Garzhvog. "Brother, father," she whispered. "Please stay and block his body so they can't see him." Tears flowed from their exhausted reservoir. It _should_ have been exhausted because of how many she had already shed, but more followed. More always followed.

Garzhvog nodded, pulling a chair over so he could sit. Grintuk did the same. Their broad shoulders blocked most of Varhog's body from view. Myrintuk and Breetuk slumped together in a loveseat, anguished tears coursing down their cheeks. The others all quietly left.

Willow stood, pulled off her armor, and laid it at the foot of the bed. She picked up the boys and climbed on the bed, situating herself against the pillows as the boys snuggled next to her body. They were used to this from the week Varhog had been gone. They knelt next to her sides and leaned over to latch onto the breast in front of them, their small heads drooping sideways. After a very determined nursing session, during which they doggedly fought their weariness so they could remove all of the milk, they succumbed to sleep. Willow gently unlatched them, covering herself as she sat up so they could lie down on the pillows and continue their nap.

Willow scooted off the bed, walked around the tables to the side opposite Grintuk and Garzhvog, and lay down on top of Varhog's cold body, wedging her hands between his arms and torso and resting her head in the center of his chest. The tears that had stopped flowing while she nursed the twins resumed their course down her cheeks as she searched in vain for the reassuring beat of his heart. Willow fell into a numb trance, aware of nothing else until her babies awoke nearly two hours later.


	27. Sorrow

27\. Sorrow

While Willow rested on Varhog, the others in the room conversed in soft tones. Breetuk hadn't stopped crying almost since Varhog announced his intention on the battlefield.

"I can't believe he's dead," she whispered. "But more than feeling sad that my favorite brother is gone, I'm heartbroken for Willow."

Myrintuk stared at her daughter. "Yes, that's how I feel too. The pain of losing one's mate is unlike any other. I thought I would never feel grief of the same intensity again, but I was wrong. The pain of losing a child almost feels worse. Maybe I'm only saying that because it has been so long since Yarbog died and Varhog just did." She choked on her last words, turning her face into Breetuk's shoulder. "Varhog is dead. How? My strongest, bravest, dearest son is dead, killed by my own father. Watching that happen was the worst thing I have ever been through."

"I'm sorry you had to," Garzhvog comforted. "It was the worst thing _I've_ ever seen, and I saw horrible things during the war. Poor Willow. She's strong, but it seems so unfair that _she_ , of all people, is expected to endure this trial right now. Yet they seemed to know all along exactly what they needed to do. I wondered what they were planning and even tried to guess. It just seemed so unlikely that Willow would really face the king, though we practiced so much as if that was their intention. I still don't understand how she survived. He killed Varhog so easily."

They all sat in disbelieving, stunned denial for many minutes. Grintuk broke the prolonged silence by quietly saying, "Firesword mentally communicated with me just now. The other Dragon Riders are beside themselves with worry for Willow. They wonder if they might come see her."

Garzhvog turned to look at Willow, whose eyes were open but completely blank. "Willow," he softly said. Nothing in Willow's eyes or face indicated she had heard, and Garzhvog was only a foot away from her. "I'm not sure we can reach her right now, so I suppose if the Riders want to come, it wouldn't disturb her. She's so distant that she didn't even hear me."

Within only a few minutes there was a quiet knock on the door, and Grintuk stood to answer it. A steady stream of people entered until the comfortably large room felt crowded. Eragon and Arya were first, followed by Murtagh and Nasuada. Knilf and Greta came next, then Hanin and Maehrí, who held their sleeping son in her arms. Bodin and Tomath filed in last.

Tomath's face was red, his eyes puffy. Though he entered the room last, he worked his way through the bodies until he reached Willow's side. Fresh tears began coursing down his cheeks as he gently touched her arm. Then he looked up, and his eyes fell on a throw at the foot of the large bed.

Apparently not wanting to break the silence that hung over the room like a heavy shroud, he mouthed the word, "Kausta," and the blanket sailed to his outstretched hand. He spread it over Willow before leaning against the wall behind the tables, never taking his eyes from Varhog's face.

Eragon said, "Thank you, Tomath. That was thoughtful. Thank you for letting us come, Garzhvog, Myrintuk. We're worried about Willow. Should we communicate mentally so we don't risk disturbing her or the twins?"

"The twins can sleep through anything, and Willow is so far away right now that she won't hear us," Myrintuk answered.

Murtagh left Nasuada's side and made his way over to stand by Tomath. He reached out and placed a hand on Varhog's bare shoulder. "Willow has always been like a beloved sister to me. I was there when her father died, but I've never seen her like this. Is there any way we Riders can help? We all love Willow and Varhog. Losing him feels as much like losing a real brother as any of us can imagine. They must have known all along that this would happen."

"So it seems," Myrintuk agreed. "We were saying much the same only a few moments ago. I'm not sure what will help her right now. Surely knowing she has your love and support will go a long way, but even so, nothing will fill the hole in her soul that Varhog's death has created. I was surrounded by loved ones when I learned of my mate's death and it did help, but it did nothing to lessen the shock and pain."

Knilf also made his way over to the tables, holding Greta's hand. He moved the chair Grintuk had been sitting in and helped Greta into it so she would be off her feet. Then Knilf rested his forehead against Varhog's other shoulder, the one Murtagh's hand wasn't touching. "Oh mine brother," he whispered in despair. "None of us ever imagined having to watch you die. You, the strongest and bravest of the Riders. Thank you for your sacrifice. You saved us all."

He raised his head and looked sadly into Willow's open, unseeing eyes. "My dear," he lamented, tears trailing into his mustache and beard. "You knew what you would face this morning and still you showed your love and kindness in your concern for me. How can we ever repay you? Haven't you suffered enough? Wasn't it enough to lose all of your family? Why Varhog? Why now?" He once again lowered his head, quiet sobs shaking his shoulders.

Everyone observed Knilf in deep sorrow. Finally Nasuada regained her composure enough to address Myrintuk. "What are the customs of burial among the Urgralgra?" she gently asked. "Varhog deserves the highest honor any of our races can bestow on him."

"We bury our deceased straight in the earth with no casket," Garzhvog answered when it became clear that Myrintuk wouldn't be able to speak again for a moment.

"We should dress him first," Breetuk said.

"If someone is available to convey what is needed, we can have the finest clothing sewn and ready by tomorrow morning," Nasuada said.

"If there's any way we could help with that, we would consider it an honor," Hanin said. "Maehrí and I could sing clothing from any naturally occurring material or substance."

"We don't dress our dead in specific burial clothes," Garzhvog said. "When we have the luxury, we simply bury them in what we feel they would have wanted to wear. What would Varhog have preferred, Myrintuk?"

"Something simple," she said. "Maybe black. He most likely wouldn't have cared. I'd like to see him in a handsome leather jacket without adornment and pants of the same material and style. I'm sure we can polish up some of the boots he already has."

"What of a shirt?" Maehrí wondered.

"White, long-sleeved, flowing. It would need to open wide enough at the top to fit around his horns."

"Simple, black leather pants and jacket, along with a long-sleeved white shirt?" Hanin confirmed.

"That's right," Myrintuk said.

"We'll take those boots right there and polish them until they look new," Hanin said.

"Thank you," Myrintuk whispered.

"Willow informed the armies that the funeral would be tomorrow morning," Nasuada said. "Is that acceptable? If necessary, we can announce a change of plans."

"That's acceptable," Garzhvog said. "When possible, the grave is dug by the deceased person's surviving male relatives. Since all of Varhog's brothers are here, they'll consider it their right and honor to do so for him."

"Do the Urgralgra stand by and watch while the body is lowered in the earth and buried?" Eragon asked.

"Yes, traditionally," Garzhvog said. "I know that differs somewhat from human customs. Will it be a problem?"

"Not for me but potentially for Willow," Eragon said.

Garzhvog creased his brow in concern. "I see what you mean. We'll all be there to help her. We can even leave with her if it becomes too much."

"Do you mind having your son buried in Ilirea?" Nasuada asked Myrintuk.

"No, Your Majesty," Myrintuk said. "Here is where he gave his life and saved our land. Here is where he should rest."

"If you don't object, I would like to say some words in honor of Varhog," Eragon requested.

"I was also hoping for the opportunity," Nasuada admitted. "What Varhog did was truly heroic, and all of Alagaёsia is indebted to him for his sacrifice."

"Of all the humans who could speak at an Urgralgra funeral, you would be the two most welcome," Garzhvog said. "And now Willow, who is rightfully our queen. Do you object, Myrintuk?"

"No," she said. "It would be an honor. Would you also say something, Garzhvog? As war chief of our clan, it would normally fall to you to pay the last respects to the dead."

"Of course, my dear. I'll also say something. So you other two know, we keep our words short at a funeral. You needn't prepare any long orations. If you don't mind, I'll translate for the Urgralgra who might attend and who don't know the common tongue."

"Not at all," Eragon assured.

"What shall we do about the Games?" Nasuada wondered. "My inclination is to continue in our intention of cancelling them. However, we have a unique opportunity with the death of Kulkarvek to allow all of the rams from Anghelm who need to prove themselves the chance to participate, which might alleviate some of the unrest we have been dealing with in the north. Can any of you Urgals familiar with the situation foresee how the king's death will affect your race in the immediate future?"

Grintuk immediately said, "It will only mean good things, as far as I can see. I believe it is safe to say that almost all opposed the king by the end, when he began threatening innocent females and children. If there were any who still felt loyalty for him today, after seeing Willow defeat him as she did, their loyalties will have immediately transferred to her. When the story spreads to those who weren't here, everyone else will accept her as well. When she's ready, we'll travel with her to the Urgal villages and towns so more of the Urgralgra can begin to meet her. Without Kulkarvek forcing rams to kill to prove their worthiness to marry, I believe the tribal enmity will quickly begin to weaken. I'm sure Willow would just as soon have the governing of individual clans overseen by that clan's Herndall and war chief, as was the tradition before Kulkarvek's reign."

"I agree with that assessment," Garzhvog said. "Until the time Willow feels ready for that, I will continue in my efforts, and hopefully they will now be more fruitful since no one has Kulkarvek to fear. As for the Games, I don't see how this tragedy will affect those outside of this gathering and Varhog's immediate family to the point that we should cancel them completely. The rams who reached the age to take a mate this year and last need a way to prove themselves so they can proceed, and we have already had too many casualties to risk removing this opportunity."

"I agree," Nasuada said. "None of Varhog's family needed to participate this year but out of respect for him and tomorrow's events, we'll at least postpone them another few days. We have plenty of food to sustain the large crowds who have stayed longer than they originally planned. The extra business is also good for the local economy, but forgive me for mentioning such a thing at a time like this."

"A good leader always recognizes all of the ways he or she can improve the situation of those they lead," Garzhvog dismissed. "After the elves have prepared the clothing, Myrintuk and I will help Willow dress Varhog. As his mate, that is her right, but she won't be able to on her own since he's so heavy. The surviving family can choose who helps, but we'll take the burden of decision off of Willow's shoulders and simply show up to help."

"The rest of your children and their mates are also most anxious to see Varhog and say goodbye," Eragon said. "Myrin specifically told me to tell you that. She was reluctant to intrude but was very insistent that she have a chance to see Varhog."

"Of course," Myrintuk said. "Perhaps an opportunity will present itself this afternoon. I'm most worried for Willow and what she'll want. She'll already have so little time, and she didn't seem sure how she would tell the boys. We'll stay with her until tomorrow morning. Can we call on any of you to fill in for us if needed?"

"Please do," Eragon said. "We're at your service in any way and are most anxious to help Willow if we can. As long as Grintuk or Breetuk are with you, they can communicate mentally with any of us Riders wherever we are in the palace. If you happen to leave, have one of them tell us so we can inform your family and have a few moments with Varhog."

"We'll do that," Myrintuk said as Grintuk also nodded his assent. "Thank you, everyone. Your concern and thoughtfulness mean so much to me, and I know the rest of my family will also appreciate it."

The twins began stirring on the bed. It had been a couple of hours since Willow had first moved away from them to lie on Varhog's body.

"I suppose we ought to go now so Willow doesn't feel overwhelmed when the babies wake up," Arya softly suggested. "Unless you think she would like seeing us?"

The moment of indecision was quickly settled when Will called out for Willow in a small voice. "Mama?"

-:-:-

Though conversation had been carrying on nearly unabated since Willow entered her trance, at the sound of her baby's voice, she abruptly awakened from her stupor and sat up, realizing she was cold. Varhog was dead. He was cold. She would never feel his warm arms around her again. But she had to stop thinking that because her sons needed her and she had to function for them, even if only outwardly.

Then she noticed the blanket and looked around to see all of the Dragon Riders in her room. She mechanically moved her eyes from one beloved face to the next, and her tears started flowing again at the expressions of overwhelming pity and sorrow.

"Mama!" Will anxiously repeated.

Willow slid off Varhog and walked around the makeshift bier to the bed. "I'm sorry, Will. Do you need to go potty?"

"Potty!" he insisted, helpfully patting himself. She scooped him up and clutched him to her chest, grateful for _his_ warmth. Eragon, Arya, and the elves parted so she could walk with him to the washroom. Once there, she helped him relieve himself into the toilet. As she returned with him to the bed, she remembered that Varhog had told her Var wasn't usually as good at waiting. Var had still been asleep when she took Will, and Willow hoped he hadn't had to wet himself.

As she set Will on the bed, she saw that Var was still dry and still asleep, though he was beginning to squirm. Willow took Var and repeated the process with him, hearing Will cheerfully greet his grandparents, uncles, and aunts.

Willow returned to the main chamber with Var in her arms. "Hello, everyone," she wearily said. "Thank you for coming. Sorry we didn't tell you before. It was hard enough to plan on doing what we did without having everyone trying to talk us out of it. I know it must be difficult for you to lose Varhog too." She set Var back on the bed and as soon as her arms were free, Tomath was in them.

"Willow," he cried. "I'm so sorry. It was terribly sad to see Uncle Varhog die, but I've been so much sadder thinking how hard it must have been for you."

"Thank you, Tomath," she whispered. "It has been hard."

Murtagh approached next, giving her a tight hug. "I know you probably want us all to go away, but we wanted you to know we're here for you."

"Thank you, Murtagh. It has been a while since we were in a situation like this, hasn't it?"

"I wish there had never been a need to repeat it," Murtagh sorrowfully replied. "My heart is aching for you, Willow. You shouldn't have to bear this."

"No one should, and yet so many do. With such support and love, I'll make it through," Willow bravely responded.

Murtagh released her, and the other Riders swiftly offered their love and condolences. Willow felt warm again after Eragon stepped away, exiting the room behind Arya and leaving her alone with her sons and the four Urgals.

Willow sat on the bed and scooted back to her solo nursing position. While Varhog was journeying to Anghelm, she had tolerated his absence as a temporary inconvenience, anxiously counting the days when he would return and be able to help her again. Now she knew he would never return to help her and that she must endure the inconvenience of his absence with more patience.

The flow of water from her eyes picked up again and this time Will noticed. "Mama sad?" he said before leaning down to nurse. "Mama be happy."

She smiled through her tears. "I'll try, honey," she promised in a whisper. That satisfied Will for the time, and he joined Var, who had fully awakened while the Riders were embracing Willow. The boys held hands while they shared their meal.

Willow stared at the wall across from the bed, but Garzhvog's deep voice reached her through the mental fog in her brain. "Willow, you need to drink something," he gently suggested. "And eat."

"I'm not hungry," she replied. "But I wouldn't turn down some water." Myrintuk arose from the loveseat she shared with Breetuk. The two rams had taken their seats to block Varhog's lifeless body from the view of those on the bed. Myrintuk poured her a glass of water from the pitcher on a table near the door and brought it to her.

"You'll have to hold it up for me," Willow said in a dull tone. Myrintuk did, and Willow drank it. "Thank you," Willow said without looking at her mother.

Before she could retreat back into her numb solitude, Myrintuk spoke to her. "Willow, did you know Varhog would do what he did? You seemed very calm."

Willow forced herself to focus on Myrintuk. Since she felt nothing at the moment, she was able to answer, "Yes, mother. He told me the night he arrived back from Anghelm. Already he knew, and he also knew he must tell me so I would be prepared. He rightly guessed that I would never forgive him if he tried to spring it on me last second, or worse, didn't tell me at all and got himself killed right in front of me. I suppose I should be grateful that I at least get to have some time with his body. That's more luxury than you or father had."

" _Why_ did he?" Myrintuk pressed. "You defeated Kulkarvek so easily. How were you not killed by his crushing blows?"

Willow continued to stare unblinkingly and speak without inflection. "I needed to observe Kulkarvek fight from the perspective of my fighting mind so I would know how soon to dodge him. It's different with every opponent because their arms and legs and bodies are different lengths. I have to dodge at the very last possible second, and if that's even a fraction of a second too late. . . . Well, you saw what happened to Varhog.

"I also needed to know what it felt like when someone died. I would have released my hold around Kulkarvek's neck too soon if I hadn't experienced what it felt like when Varhog's life left him. It was different from feeling him slip into unconsciousness, but I had never felt it before. If I had let go too soon and Kulkarvek had recovered after a few moments of unconsciousness, I would have lost my one advantage."

They all looked confused when Willow clarified, "My armor," so she patiently continued, "That shirt I was wearing. Right here on the bed. It's actually a unique piece of protective clothing forged by the famed elf smith, Rhunön of Ellesméra, who randomly showed up at the fight today. She mentally witnessed a replay of my fight against Varhog, Yarbog, and father and had an impression that I would need some type of armor that would protect me from the crushing blows of a powerful Kull warrior. How right she was."

Willow's eyes were beginning to burn, and she squeezed them shut as she described her armor and the process Rhunön followed to create it. She finished, "Eragon and Arya are the only others who know of its unique properties. I would appreciate if you also guard that knowledge, though I'll never fight another Urgralgra ram in my life. As you clearly saw, it's priceless, and Rhunön will never be able to forge another like it. I don't want problems to arise should people learn of it and begin to covet it."

Myrintuk breathed, "That elegant shirt you wore is protective armor? I wondered—as did my father—why you had chosen such a beautiful garment to fight in. Now I understand why. You looked so lovely in it, Willow. That color becomes you."

Willow's tears resumed. "That's what Varhog always said. At least, once he felt he could. He thought it all the years of our friendship but never felt comfortable complimenting me until we were married." She gasped. "Mother! How do you survive this anguish? How? How! It's threatening to consume me!"

Myrintuk was back by her side in an instant, wrapping her arms around Willow as best she could. "One second at a time, Willow. You can only endure it one second at a time. We'll all be here to help you. You'll never be alone, though you'll feel lonely, for no one will be able to fill Varhog's role. It may be years before you even begin to think of that as a possibility."

Willow nodded, and as the boys finished with their usual speed and efficiency, Var commented on her distress, "Mama sad?"

"Yes, mama is sad," Willow confirmed.

"Where dada?" Var wondered. "Dada wuv mama. Mama be happy."

Willow's lower lip trembled as she struggled to reply. "Dada did love mama, sweetie. He's gone again. I'll try to be happy." She attempted to smile. "Shall we go out and see Sunset. It's such a nice day."

"Sunset!" the boys excitedly cried. They loved Willow's dragon, and Sunset loved the boys. They slid off the bed feet first and ran to the door. Since they could reach the handle, Will easily opened the door, and they were off like arrows down the hall.

"I'll keep up with them," Garzhvog offered, quickly following after. "We'll be in the courtyard."

Willow retrieved a short-sleeved shirt to pull on over her undershirt, yanking her hair free as she walked to Varhog's body. She touched his cold cheek, flinching at how foreign it felt, and ran her hand along his face and around his horn.

"I'll return, sweetheart," she whispered, though she knew he didn't hear. This was his body, but it wasn't Varhog. The ram she loved was no longer with her, though his flesh remained behind. She remembered what Ellei-an and Gelarik had taught about life being in the spirit. That must have been the change she felt when he died. His spirit must have left.

She abruptly turned away, surrendering as fresh tears filled her eyes. After drinking another glass of water, Willow went to Grintuk and gazed up at him. "Will you please walk with me?" she pitifully requested.

His eyes were full of compassion as he put one arm around her. "Of course, Willow," he immediately agreed.

"Thank you," she whispered, and they left the room to follow her sons.


	28. Love Letter

28\. Love Letter

Willow stayed outside with her sons for the rest of the afternoon. The twins again asked about their dada when Black Thunder showed up, and their confusion only grew when their mother walked to the black dragon, who lowered his head. Willow wrapped her arms around the dragon's snout, and their tears mingled together.

 _I'm sorry, my father,_ Willow thought to the noble beast. _At least someone understands the desolation I'm feeling on the same level._

 _Willow,_ the dragon mournfully responded, touched that Willow had addressed him like Varhog always had. Black Thunder realized he loved her as much as he had Varhog. His grief was profound, but so was Willow's, and she was still attempting to function for her family's sake.

 _We will help each other through this_ , Black Thunder then comforted _. I feel utterly alone and incomplete, but I know you do too. You and the twins will be my reason to carry on._

 _Thank you, my father_ , Willow said. _Having you here feels like having a little—big, actually—part of Varhog here. Your mind is familiar like his. I love you._

Black Thunder didn't remember ever hearing or expressing those words, though he knew he loved Varhog and Sunset. It wasn't natural for him to express love verbally, but he did to Willow then because it was true and somehow helped him. _I love you too, my daughter. Thank you for always seeing in Varhog what I did and for bringing him such happiness in the time you had together. I was the only one besides him who knew of his feelings for you, and he struggled with them for many years._

Willow nodded against his snout, turning her face and kissing the bridge between his eyes. Then she sat down and leaned against his chest as he curled around her, each providing the other with a small measure of comfort while Sunset and the twins romped about. Even though Varhog had been far smaller than he, Willow somehow seemed so much frailer, and Black Thunder felt as fiercely protective of her as Varhog always had.

-:-:-

When the twins were clearly tired, they went in for dinner. After eating, Willow gave them a bath. She wanted them to sleep a long while that night and planned to hand express any milk that accumulated, having learned the skill from Myrin.

While they had been outside, the rest of Varhog's family and the Riders had gone in to mourn the loss of their brother and say their goodbyes. When Willow returned, everyone left save Myrintuk and Garzhvog, and they sat in the loveseat until sleep overtook them.

Once the twins were asleep, Willow was exhausted. Though she wanted to go to Varhog's body, she savored the warmth from the boys and decided to stay on the bed. As she scooted down between them and turned on her side, sliding her arm under the pillow, she felt something hard and pulled it out.

Willow had just dimmed the flameless lanterns in their room, so she increased the glow of the one nearest her head until she could make out a wrapped parcel. She sat back up and curiously unwrapped it. A sheet of folded parchment fell onto her lap, landing in such a way that she could see her name written in Varhog's hand.

That was all it took for Willow to start crying again. She hastily snatched the letter and held it away from her lap to protect it from the effects of her tears. The other item in the wrapping was a heart-shaped piece of slate. She first saw the back, but when she turned it over, she gasped in disbelief and clutched the fairth to her bosom. Then she removed it just as quickly and carefully studied it, knowing her tears would do nothing to damage this gift.

 _This_ must have been what Arya had given Varhog when she returned Willow's steel-silk armor. Willow had completely forgotten about that until this moment. Her initial curiosity had faded when Varhog never brought it up, but Willow didn't resent that Varhog hadn't shared the fairth before, for it was exactly what she needed to give her the strength to survive a few more seconds.

She adored the image of their family, held together by the strength of Varhog's powerful arms. She loved the heart shape, along with the dragon scale frame, which she was sure Varhog had created. They were all reminders to her that their love was eternal and would one day reunite her with Varhog. As she stared at the image for an indefinite length of time, her eyes never left Varhog, moving from his face to his chest and arms, then back up to his face and horn.

The fairth was made on the day that Rahna had appeared and given Varhog the counsel he had later shared with her. Willow was now in the beginning stages of the most difficult trial they would be expected to endure, and if she wanted to enjoy the fulfillment of the promise that their suffering would come to an end, then she needed to be strong. Varhog had performed his sacrifice flawlessly, and Willow was determined to do her part. She wouldn't complain about the grief she now felt or allow it to take her away from their sons.

Whispering a prayer for strength to accomplish her role, Willow scrubbed the tears from her cheeks and opened the letter. It read:

 _Beloved Willow,_

 _If you are reading this, I truly did fall, and I'm so grateful I had the courage to share my plans with you before our confrontation with Kulkarvek. You also must have triumphed, which I knew you were capable of all along. You're so amazing, Willow. I hardly even know where to begin. I would never be able to express all I feel for you in a book a thousand pages long, but I wanted you to have some small memento to hold and remember me by. I know the fairth will do a better job than this letter._

 _I'm sorry I didn't share the fairth sooner. I always hoped I would recognize the right moment, and I did. I'm so sorry I had to leave you, Willow. So desperately sorry. It almost destroyed me when you nearly died after the twins were born, and it's actually easier for me to picture sacrificing my life for you than it is for me to fathom losing you. I know you feel the same._

 _But this world needs you in a way that it has never needed anyone else, including me. My race, our race—for I know you feel as much a part of the Urgralgra as I ever have—will always be better for all you have given us. As queen, you will lead the Urgals into a new era of peace and prosperity, helping them overcome their differences with the other races in a way no one else could. It's the most special gift you have, and I know you were prepared in exactly the same way that Eragon and Arya were for their important roles. My role was also important, but it had to be a supporting role, and I wouldn't have had it any other way._

 _Eartheyes, continue to shine in the world with your beautiful, warm, life-giving brightness. Try not to allow your grief at my passing to burden you for too long. You changed the world with a simple smile, even the first smile you shared with me. You can continue doing so, and everyone you meet will fall in love with you as I did. I hope you will someday find happiness with someone else. I hate to think of you alone all the rest of your long life until we are reunited. You deserve to be warm and happy, to love and be loved, and to have many more children._

 _Tell the boys often how much their dada loves them and that he had to go away to protect them. Teach them what I believed was most important so they can grow up to be the men you always imagined them being. I hope you will see me in them as they grow. I love you so much, beautiful Willow. Remember me._

 _Yours forever,_

 _Varhog_

Willow sobbed as she repeatedly read Varhog's letter, always holding it in front of her so the tears wouldn't spoil it. After what felt like hours, she moved to the foot of the bed and stiffly stood by Varhog's body, wrapping a blanket around herself before lying down on him and falling into a fitful sleep, full of Varhog, his love, his letter, and their life.

 _As her dreams changed and melded in the way only dreams can, Willow found herself on the bed in their chamber in Ilirea, peacefully sleeping with the boys by her side and aware of Varhog at the table. No lights were burning, but that seemed only right, for Varhog could see in the dark with his glowing yellow eyes._

 _When he was done with his task at the table, Varhog approached the bed and slid something under a pillow before kneeling on the mattress by Willow and lifting her into his arms. He situated her on his lap, touching her in deepest love before tenderly joining their bodies. As Willow observed the scene unfolding, as if from a third-party perspective, she wasn't surprised to hear her own sigh of satisfaction and enjoyment._ This _dream seemed more vivid than any she had ever had._

 _Varhog's rumbling began, and Willow smiled. Was it fair to say that_ every _part of this was her favorite? She couldn't narrow it down. As her hands twitched in response to the beloved sound, Varhog tearfully confessed, "I love you, Willow. I adore you, my beautiful, sweet mate. You have always accepted every part of me, even the parts that make me so different from you and any other human. And I know you love me all the more because of them. Thank you for teaching me of this beautiful, unconditional, pure love, and for allowing me to feel it in the brief time we had together. I will always be with you, even when I'm gone. Somehow I'll always be near."_

 _In her dream, Willow's eyes flew open. Varhog's voice was so real. How was that possible? But when Varhog began to slip away, she snapped her eyes shut just as quickly and was relieved it had the desired effect of prolonging the experience. Making love was her favorite dream, and this_ _dream in particular was quickly ascending to the top of her favorites list._

 _Varhog continued his attentions, and Willow enjoyed them almost as if they were really happening. He soon moved his mouth to her face, bestowing dozens of gentle kisses, and Willow began to stir. Just as he pressed his lips to hers, Willow had the sinking sensation that the dream was ending and. . . ._

Willow startled awake, disappointed and disoriented, trying to understand where she was. Hadn't she just been making love with Varhog? She could smell him near. Yes, he was right under her, but he had been kneeling up on the bed, with her sitting in his lap. Abruptly, her confusion gave way to dread certainty as her conscious mind took over for her subconscious one.

Willow remembered waking up that morning as Varhog's kiss became more involved, and the whole recollection of that terrible day crashed down upon her. She realized that her dream was a perfect reenactment of his experiment making love to her while she slept. Exactly as she predicted, the experience had left an indelible impression on her unconscious mind, which had called the memory forth as soon as she was dreaming. She then cherished the dream more deeply, for it was her first subconscious exposure to the powerful experience she had with Varhog less than twenty-four hours before.

He must have really spoken aloud his words in the dream, and one phrase stuck in Willow's mind: "I will always be with you, even when I'm gone. Somehow I'll always be near."

Could Varhog somehow be near her right then? Not his body, which was obviously under her, but the part of him that made him alive? Would she be able to sense his spirit if she focused?

Willow raised her head and spoke a word in the ancient language to create a muted glow above Varhog's face. She stared at his handsome features until her eyes glazed and her gaze became distant, trying to feel her surroundings on a spiritual level.

Willow slowly raised her head when she heard Varhog's voice say, "Willow."

And there he stood, leaning against the wall behind the tables, his hands clasped and one foot drawn up. His spiritual form was exactly identical to his physical body, and it was dressed in the clothes he had worn before facing the king, though his physical body was still in his undergarments.

"Varhog?" Willow breathed.

He raised his eyebrows. "Can you hear me this time?"

"Yes," she whispered in amazement. "This time? Have you said my name before?"

"Countless times since I left my body," Varhog answered. "Seeing your sorrow has broken my heart, or whatever equivalent I have there in this form." He raised one hand over the area of his heart.

"I dreamed of you making love to me while I slept," Willow shared. "It worked, Yelloweyes. Thank you. It was beautiful. Everything you did, everything you said. You told me you would somehow always be near, and I thought you really might be, knowing what we do about how our spirits give us life. Though this body under me looks like you, it's _not_ you. _You_ are gone. I miss you so much, Varhog, and I still don't know how I'll tell the boys. They've asked about you, but they haven't yet noticed your lifeless form. I know I need to let them say goodbye before we bury your body, but how will I endure that? I'm trying to be strong and remember what Rahna said. You fulfilled your role perfectly, but mine seems so much harder because of how enduring it will be. Thank you for the fairth. And your letter. If you've been here long, you saw how that affected me. I'll always treasure them. Always."

"Willow," Varhog forlornly repeated. "Willow, I'm sorry I had to leave you. This time I didn't just threaten to leave you. I actually did, and in a far more permanent way than before. Even after I promised I never would."

Willow slid off his body and approached Varhog's spirit, raising one hand to touch him. Her hand didn't pass through his body, but where it stopped, she felt no sensation, no pressure, no heat.

Varhog tried to mirror her caress and met with the same result—his hand didn't pass through her cheek, but Willow couldn't feel him. Desperate tears welled up in their eyes.

"Don't cry, sweetheart," Willow entreated, her own tears spilling down her cheeks.

" _Am_ I crying?" Varhog wondered.

"It looks as if you are."

"That's how it feels emotionally, but I have no sensation of it."

"Oh, Varhog!" Willow despaired. "I thought we did such an admirable job of preparing for this by smothering each other in our love. But already I find myself wondering if I can really recall the warmth of your touch, the feel of your body, the strength of your muscles. When I no longer have your smell or the sight of your physical form in front of me, what if I forget? What if I forget?"

She raised her other hand, placing it next to the first on his chest and imagining she could feel him. "Varhog," she begged in desperate longing, never closing her eyes as she leaned her forehead into her hands. She saw him raise his arms and try to embrace her, but she felt nothing.

Her tone changed to a whimper of hopeless grief as he began to fade from her awareness. "Varhog. Please don't leave me again. Come back to me, sweetheart."

Varhog whispered her name once more before he was gone, and Willow felt like she had lost him all over again. She collapsed to her knees where his feet had just been and leaned her head into the wall. "Varhog," she whispered again and again, her tears flooding the floor beneath her.

There Willow remained, with only her sobs for company, until she succumbed to exhaustion many hours later.


	29. Last Goodbyes

29\. Last Goodbyes

When the twins stirred the following morning, sunlight was streaming through the windows. Willow was fast asleep, still kneeling and leaning forward into the wall.

"Mama!" her babies fearfully cried, having never awakened alone.

Willow stiffly sat back, rubbing her swollen eyes, and terrible awareness fell on her again. She cried out in pain as she began to stand and brushed her chest with her arms. She was so engorged that her pants were soaked with the milk that had long been dripping through her two shirts, having no other choice but to leave her breasts on its own.

Willow realized that the boys must have slept the entire night without her presence in the bed, never calling out loudly enough to get her attention before, if indeed they had at all.

"Boys," she weakly replied, staggering to her feet and holding her arms away from her chest. Moving at all was excruciating. She stumbled to the bed, vaguely aware of Myrintuk and Garzhvog stirring in the corner. "Here I am. Do you want your milk?"

"Want miwk," they anxiously confirmed.

Willow situated herself on the bed and removed the short-sleeved shirt she had fallen asleep in, unable to keep the grimace of pain from her face. But it only intensified as she gingerly bared her breasts and the boys eagerly latched on.

"Ah!" she cried again. "Ah, ah, ah, ah!" Their determined suckling hurt so much that tears squeezed out of her tightly closed eyes. Her breasts were harder than rock hard, and the boys had to work insistently to soften them enough to even latch on properly and get the milk flowing. When they held on with their small, strong hands, Willow thought she would scream, but she clamped her lips together, instead moaning softly so she wouldn't frighten the boys.

When the agonizing sensation of her milk letting down had finally passed, Willow was able to slowly relax, and her pain was replaced by the second with equal and increasing amounts of relief and gratitude. The boys nursed longer than they ever had to make up for the whole night of missing, and when they stopped nearly an hour later, her breasts were blessedly drained.

"Thank you so much, Will and Var," Willow sincerely breathed, smiling brightly for the first time in days, which they noticed. "Mama feels so much better now that you drank all of your milk. You've never gone so long without nursing and I made so much milk! It hurt! Owie!"

This they understood as much as her smile. "Hewp mama!" Will proudly declared.

"Mama happy!" Var confidently added.

"Yes, my boys," Willow confirmed. "You helped me so much and I'm happy. Shall we now go potty?"

"Potty!" they repeated, sliding off the bed to run to the washroom. As Willow followed them, Myrintuk and Garzhvog, who had occasionally conversed with one another or Willow during the boys' meal, stood to leave.

Garzhvog said, "We'll go get some breakfast and Varhog's clothing from Hanin and Maehrí."

"And we'll send someone to be with you," Myrintuk promised. "Is there anyone you would most like to see?"

"Eragon and Arya," Willow answered. As the Urgals left the room and closed the door behind themselves, Willow then helped her sons relieve themselves into the toilet. When they were done, Will looked concerned.

"Mowe," he anxiously said, and Willow knew he also had to relieve his bowels, so she completely removed his pants and held him over the toilet. Will promptly took care of his need, and Willow wiped him before setting him down to run around with a bare lower half, not even thinking that he would see Varhog in the other room.

She held Var in the same way, since the twins often shared the same schedule, and repeated the process. As she was setting Var down, she heard Will delightedly cry, "Dada!"

Willow's stomach clenched. She wasn't ready to have this discussion yet, but she would never be ready and time was running short. Var heard his brother's cry and ran to discover his meaning. He and Will took up the chant of "Dada, dada, dada," reaching up to pull on Varhog's hand.

Varhog's arm fell off the table in a sickening way, and Willow quickly returned it to his side, noticing how heavy it was without the help of his muscles to move it.

"Dada cowd," Will worried, walking over to grab the blanket that had fallen from Willow's shoulders earlier.

"Yes, dada is cold," Willow agreed. "And that's so thoughtful of you to get him a blanket, but it won't help, honey." Though she dreaded doing it, Willow knew she would tell them the truth as she always did. "Dada is gone and won't be coming back. He died, boys. He died to keep us safe. Your dada is dead."

The twins didn't understand. "Pway dada?" Var uncertainly asked.

"Dada can't play anymore, sweetie," Willow explained, her tears threatening to break forth at any moment. "He can't move anymore. We must say goodbye."

"Dada hewe," Will pointed out, reaching up to touch Varhog's hand.

When a soft knock sounded at the door, the boys turned their attention away from Varhog and ran to open it. "Good morning, boys," Eragon greeted. "May I come in?"

"Uncwe Ewagon!" they happily exclaimed. Eragon bent down and scooped them up as he entered the room, closing the door by leaning his back against it. He saw Willow by the tables next to Varhog, and his smile dissolved into a look of deep concern and compassion.

"Willow," he whispered. "I'm so sorry. I was already on my way when I ran into Myrintuk and Garzhvog, who said you wanted to see me and Arya. I was coming to see if there's anything I can do for you. Would the boys like to play with Brom this morning while you prepare for the funeral?" The boys cried their approval upon hearing the words 'play' and 'Brom' in the same sentence.

Willow nodded. "Thank you. That would be helpful. They just now discovered their father, and they don't understand. Eragon, how am I going to do this?" She leaned into the table as her legs threatened to give way.

Eragon set the boys down and approached Willow, wrapping his arms around her as she collapsed into him. Her tears began, and the boys noticed. They followed Eragon over and each hugged one of Willow's legs, their joy of moments before giving way to concern for their mother.

"Mama sad," Will gravely told Var.

"Hewp mama," Var suggested. "Dada hewp mama."

Willow's weeping increased. "I'm sorry, Eragon," she gasped. "I'm soaking your clothes. You can take the boys. I'll compose myself eventually."

"I'm not leaving," Eragon gently said. "You shouldn't be alone, Willow. Arya is on her way to fetch the boys. We have been desperately worried about you. All of the Riders, ever since we came yesterday. None of us knew what you and Varhog intended, but it's clear that there was no other way to defeat the king. You accomplished it so beautifully, without the horrible and unnecessary loss of life that we all feared. But the most important life for you was lost. How can we help? Is there any way?"

"I don't know how you can help," Willow cried. "It feels like nothing will help. I feel so empty and lifeless, but the boys are a constant reminder that I need to be strong when I feel like I'd rather be buried in the ground with my husband." She turned her face away from Eragon's neck toward his shoulder, clutching around his back as her insides threatened to tear apart. "Ah! No! I don't know how to control this pain! Can emotional pain hurt this much physically?"

The babies began crying. "Mama huwt," Var despaired.

"Mama," Will cried.

Arya entered the room with Brom, walking straight to Willow's side. She stroked Willow's hair and attempted to wipe some of the tears from her face.

"Sister," Arya whispered, "I'm so sorry. I love you, Willow. We've been praying for you. I'll take the boys. You needn't worry about them. We'll feed and take care of them then bring them along to the funeral, since you have much to attend to."

"What do I have to attend to?" Willow asked in confusion. "I don't know what's expected of me."

"Murtagh and Nasuada intend to visit this morning," Eragon informed her. "We've discussed with Varhog's family what will be considered an honorable burial for him according to Urgralish custom, and they'll explain that to you. Garzhvog and Myrintuk will soon return to help you dress him. I'll stay with you until they arrive so you won't be alone."

Arya had gathered the boys' pants from the washroom. "Come along, Will and Var. Would you like to come eat and play with Brom?"

The twins didn't move. "Mama sad, An-tee Awee," Will said. They had a difficult time with Arya's name, but she loved their sweet pronunciation.

"Hewp mama," Var once again insisted.

"You boys are so sweet," Arya lovingly said. "Your mama is so blessed to have you. Would you like to stay with her or come with us for a time? If you come, you'll see mama again soon."

Willow squatted down and tightly hugged her boys, wiping her eyes with the back of her arm. She attempted to paste a brave smile on her face, but it felt more like a grimace, so she took a deep breath, cleared her expression, and tried again. It felt more natural the second time, so she pulled back to look at the boys.

"I love you both so much. Thank you for helping me be happy. I'll try not to be sad. If you want to play with Brom, I'll be all right. Auntie Arya will make sure you get something yummy to eat." The boys seemed reassured by her words. Remembering their unprecedented nursing session, Willow asked, "Shall we go potty once again before we get dressed?"

"Potty!" they echoed, running back to the washroom. As Willow followed them, she told Arya how long they had nursed and to expect them to need to potty frequently for the next little while. She dressed Will while Arya dressed Var. Eragon stood in the same location as Arya turned to leave with the three boys, who were chattering with each other.

Willow said, "Eragon, thank you for coming. I think I actually do want to be alone with Varhog in the last few minutes I can before everyone comes and we're heading off to the funeral."

He nodded silently and followed the others out the door.

Willow returned to Varhog's side and touched his face with both hands. This was her last opportunity to admire his amazing body, which had brought her so much satisfaction. He had provided her with endless love, warmth, and protection—saving her life more than once, making her a mother, completing her nearly every day as her husband.

She looked at the wall where his spirit had stood the night before, and though she didn't see Varhog now, Willow nonetheless relied on the possibility that he might be there as she smiled.

"I love your body, Yelloweyes," she whispered. "It's so perfect. I could grope it all day, but this is my last chance, and it's cold and still and so different without you inside." She returned her eyes to his physical shell and ran her hands around his horns.

"I love your horns, as you know," Willow continued. "They're the clearest evidence that you're Urgralgra, and I adore your race."

She brushed her fingertips over his closed eyelids. "I'll never forget your yellow eyes, Yelloweyes. The most constant look in them was one of perfect adoration, and I always noticed, though I didn't always say. I felt special whenever I looked at your eyes."

Moving her hands down his cheeks to the cleft in his chin, Willow went on, "This is my favorite part of your handsome face. The handsomest face I have ever seen." She slid them down his neck and along his collarbone out to his shoulders. Then she pulled her hands down his arms, which required her to stretch in order to reach his other side.

"Your strong arms," she choked, beginning to sob. "I might miss them most, sweetheart. I've never felt safer, more loved, or warmer than when I was enfolded in your powerful arms, and I feel indescribably vulnerable, alone, and cold right now. You're right here but so far away."

Willow held his hands in both of hers, which were beginning to feel cold from the constant contact with his hide. "Thank you for the happiness you provided me with these strong hands," she whispered, "and that you never used them to harm me. You were always so kind and gentle, though your strength was so immense."

She moved her hands to his waist and pushed them up his chest. "Thank you for the endless joy from your chest," she persisted through her tears. "I'll miss your voice as much as your strong arms. It always made me smile, soothed away my cares and worries. Your sounds of enjoyment when we made love filled my soul in the same way that your body did."

She moved one hand to that part of his body, gently resting it over his undergarments. "Perhaps my favorite part of you," she confessed with a small smile. "Which always surprised you, didn't it? I've decided I won't miss certain parts of you more than others because I'll miss this part as much as your eyes, arms, hands, and chest. It made me feel like a whole being, made me a mother. I don't know how I'll live without you, Varhog."

She climbed onto his chest and curled up, crying, "Haven't I already said goodbye? But I don't want to let you go." She reached up and held his face in her hands, kissing his unmoving lips. "Remember what that used to do to us? But I don't feel anything now except cold and hard. Like stone. You're gone, sweetheart. Gone. And I'm alone."


	30. A Hero's Tribute

30\. A Hero's Tribute

Willow wept on Varhog's chest until Murtagh knocked on her door, but even then she didn't move. Murtagh let himself in, and Nasuada followed with Lena. Willow stared blankly at the wall behind the bed, shivering uncontrollably in only her nursing undershirt and milk-dampened leather pants.

Murtagh came to her side and lightly stroked her hair. "Willow. May I help you move? You're freezing, sweetheart. Let me hold you. I know it won't make up for your loss, but let me lend you some warmth."

Willow blinked, moving her eyes to his. "Yes, brother," she croaked. "Help me."

Murtagh scooped Willow up, cradling her in his arms as he sat in the loveseat and asking Nasuada to bring a blanket for her. Willow curled into him as she had with Eragon, her body craving the warmth and comfort found in the arms of a strong and caring male. Her tears eventually stopped, but not before Murtagh's shirt was as soaked as Eragon's had been.

"When did you last eat?" Murtagh asked in concern.

"Eat?" Willow vacantly repeated. "The night before the confrontation. But I'm not hungry, Murtagh."

"Willow," he gently chided. "You'll waste away. Your body needs nourishment to continue feeding your sons. Won't you please eat?"

"I fear I'll throw it back up. I feel . . . dreadful. You came to tell me about the funeral?" The last word stuck in her throat.

"Oh, Willow," Murtagh despaired, tears filling his eyes. "You of all people shouldn't have to face this. You went through so much to be with him. Why take him now?"

"Our last test," Willow muttered. "I'm thirsty." Nasuada sprang to her feet to fetch Willow a drink of water. After drinking it, Willow pressed her face into Murtagh's neck. "The funeral?" she prompted.

"It will take place when you have his body prepared," Nasuada answered, seeing that her husband was too overcome for words. "The arrangements have been made. I'll say a few words as will Eragon and Nar Garzhvog. Do you want to?"

"No," Willow immediately said. "I've told him everything I want to say. I'm sure you'll say the words everyone else wants to hear. Will he be buried in the ground? My mind is so fuzzy that I can't remember what the Urgralgra customs are when it comes to death, though I've been to a funeral before."

"He will be buried," Nasuada confirmed. "Those arrangements have also been made. The service will be graveside. He'll be given a hero's tribute. By ensuring your success, he saved our land from unspeakable horrors. Is there anything else you want to know?"

"When are my father and mother coming back?" Willow asked.

"Even now," Nasuada replied.

"Murtagh," Willow pleaded. "Stay with me."

"Of course," he vowed, kissing her forehead. "I'm so sorry, Willow. I know it's useless to say, but I can't think of anything else. I love you, and I loved him, and I'm so sorry."

Willow nodded and stared at the door. Garzhvog and Myrintuk arrived not long after, one carrying a pile of folded clothing and the other a tray of food. Murtagh once again entreated Willow to eat, but she refused. The smells of the food were nauseating.

Willow stayed where she was as the two Urgals went to Varhog's body.

"Willow, would you like to help?" Myrintuk softly asked.

"You go ahead," she responded, but after a few moments of thinking about it, Willow decided to help. For all of the times she had _unclothed_ Varhog, she couldn't remember even once when she had dressed him. This would be her last opportunity.

She moved away from Murtagh, murmuring, "Thank you, Murtagh. You and Nasuada can go." She approached the tables, solemnly regarding Varhog's body. "How can I help? I've decided I want to."

"How about you do as much as you want and we'll assist you only when needed?" Garzhvog suggested.

Willow nodded, accepting the wet cloth from Myrintuk, who had been wiping dirt off of Varhog's hide. Willow hadn't noticed it before, but she supposed it made sense since Kulkarvek had dropped him in the dirt and kicked him across it. She bit her lower lip to still the tremors that started, but she could do nothing about the tears, and they joined her once again.

They remained her loyal companions as she lovingly washed her beloved mate's body. Though the other two didn't understand why, Willow repeatedly glanced at the wall behind Varhog's head, remembering where his eyes had been and hoping he saw her if his spirit was there.

When the task of washing was done, Willow took the fine shirt Myrintuk handed her. She was able to get it on over Varhog's head and horns, but she relied on Garzhvog to help after that. They was no way she could lift Varhog's huge torso away from the table. As the Kull held Varhog's body, Myrintuk helped Willow, who soon realized she would need to start over and put his arms through first, since they wouldn't bend at the elbows. She removed the shirt, and with Myrintuk helping from Varhog's other side, they finally succeeded.

They next put on his pants, followed by the simple leather jacket. Willow managed the socks and boots on her own. As she covered Varhog's large, seven-toed feet, she couldn't help but smile ever so faintly. The twins had inherited that feature from their father, and Willow had always joked about how lucky she was, not only to have two sets of perfectly adorable baby toes to nibble, but that each precious foot had two extra toes, giving her a total of eight extra toes to enjoy. Varhog had always appreciated her humor on the matter.

Willow realized that she had forgotten to thank Varhog for one of his frequent gifts to her. Looking back toward the wall, she whispered, "Thank you for our many dances, for always allowing me to stand on this strong platform." Myrintuk and Garzhvog looked at her questioningly, but she didn't meet their eyes nor provide any explanation.

When they were finished, Willow looked at Varhog's face. His skin didn't look much different than it had in life, since it was already a pale gray color, but his hair was tangled. She retrieved a hair brush and brushed it out.

"So many things I never tried," she mourned, knowing Varhog would hear if his spirit was behind her. Then she looked up at Myrintuk and Garzhvog. "I guess he's ready."

"Are you?" Garzhvog gently asked.

"I don't think I'll ever be, but I don't want to unnecessarily delay this. I think I need to nurse the boys again before we go. They went with Eragon and Arya. Will you get them, mother? I want father to stay."

"Of course, daughter," Myrintuk replied, turning to go.

Garzhvog walked to Willow and pulled her into his huge body. He was so much bigger than Varhog but more like him than either of her human brothers. "How are the boys doing?" Garzhvog asked.

"They saw him once this morning but didn't understand. They worried that he was cold and wanted to play with him. They wanted him to help me be happy. How old were your cubs when Yvenna was killed?"

"Our youngest son was a newborn. One of my younger sisters was able to be a wet nurse for him, and he has never consciously remembered her. It was really hard on the next son up for a long while. He was only three, and he still nursed and missed his mother so desperately. Myrintuk helped us through that. She even let him comfort nurse with her, though Breetuk had long since weaned. Yvenna was six and was also devastated. At that age, she could understand enough about death that she took it very hard."

Garzhvog sighed sadly, shaking his head. "I'm so sorry, Willow. Only one who has lost their mate has a hope of comprehending what it's like, but even then, I'm not presuming to say that I know what you're going through. I only know that it's impossibly hard. Every second it feels like you'll succumb to desolation. Please know we're here to help you in any way we can. Since you may not always have ideas for ways we can help, we'll try many things, but if anything is unwelcome, you have only to say. If there's anything you need, please ask."

"I'll try," Willow whispered. "It will always help if you hold me. I feel so lonely and cold."

"I promise," Garzhvog said, squeezing her against him.

Myrintuk returned with Will and Var not long after.

"Hello, boys!" Willow greeted with an attempt at cheerfulness. "Would you like your milk before we go for a little walk?"

"Yay!" they cried. Nursing and going for walks were among their top five favorite activities, along with playing with dada, eating, and visiting Sunset. Willow sat down with them on the bed and let them nurse as long as they wanted, knowing it might be some time before they could again. Her chest was still tender from that morning, and she didn't want to experience the same pain again.

When they were done, Willow helped the twins go potty. "Let's put on some of our nice clothes," she suggested. "We must say goodbye to dada this morning, boys. We want to look our best."

"Dada?" Var wondered. "Go bye-bye?"

"Yes, sweetie," Willow said with a sigh as her tears welled up again. "He must go bye-bye." The twins were pensive as their mother and grandma helped them dress in small leather pants and boots much like Varhog's, along with collared cotton shirts that laced up the front. Willow ran her fingers through their dark, tousled hair. "You boys look so handsome. More like your father every day."

Willow changed out of the pants that had been soaked with milk before pulling on her steel-silk shirt. It _was_ the nicest clothing she had, and she wanted to look her best for her last moments with Varhog's body. She ran the hair brush through her hair but didn't even bother looking in the mirror, sure she looked gaunt, pale, and exhausted, and that her eyes were as puffy and bloodshot as they felt. She forced herself to drink a glass of water before announcing that she was ready to go.

Garzhvog left the room and returned only a few moments later with Yarbog, Bruntog, and Raygog. They each gave Willow an embrace, which made her cry all the harder because of how much they reminded her of Varhog. Raygog lingered a moment longer than the other two.

"Thank you, Raygog," she whispered, glancing up at him. "You look the most like him."

Raygog nodded as tears filled his eyes. "I thought nothing would be as bad as seeing my friends die in Carvahall," he quietly said. "But I never expected to have to see Varhog die. He was so strong that he seemed almost invincible. I can't imagine how you're feeling, Willow. I'm so sorry. I'll always give you a hug if it will help."

"It will, Raygog. And the boys too." His own son was still less than a year old, but Raygog was the same kind of father Varhog had been.

Then Raygog joined his brothers and Garzhvog at the tables where Varhog's body lay. Each stood by a corner of the stretcher.

"Do you boys want to walk or would you like me to carry you?" Willow asked.

"Walk!" Will declared.

"Cawwee you, pwease," Var said. Will then looked uncertain, for it was rare that they didn't both want to do exactly the same thing.

Willow noticed. "If you'd like to start off by walking, I'll hold your hand, Will. I can always carry you later if you want." This solved the problem for her little son, and he gave her a big grin. She scooped up Var and held him close, which task he made easier by wrapping himself around her and laying his soft head against her neck.

Willow extended her free arm down to take Will's hand. "We're ready," she softly said, adding, "Remember Drajavek," as her eyes fell on it. "His sword," she clarified when everyone looked confused.

Garzhvog took the sword from where it was leaning into the corner behind the tables and laid it on Varhog's chest. It was heavy enough that no one worried about it slipping off.

As the four rams lifted Varhog and carried him out of the room, Willow followed behind with her sons and Myrintuk.

Will asked, "Dada sweep?"

"He's not sleeping, honey," Willow wearily replied. "He's dead. He won't wake up anymore."

Will's brow creased in confusion. Var turned his face, having a better view of his father from Willow's arms. He said nothing as he gazed at Varhog's still form, but he seemed to grasp that something was very different from what he was used to because of how unhappy his mother was though his father was right there. If there was one thing the boys knew, it was that their dada loved their mama and always made her smile. Her many tears were evidence enough that something was terribly amiss.

As they made their way out of the palace and to the royal burial grounds, the crowd swelled as it had when they marched out to face Kulkarvek. Willow felt the familiar numbness setting in to protect her as they arrived at the grave, which had several planks laid across it so Varhog's pallbearers could lay the stretcher down.

"No casket?" she asked Myrintuk in an undertone. In her state of mind, Willow couldn't recall anything from the funerals of the five rams killed in Carvahall.

"According to Urgralish custom," her mother gently reminded.

Willow picked up Will, and her boys held hands, turning their faces so they could look down at their father with their cheeks resting against Willow's chest. The emotional numbness extended to her physical sensations, for Willow never noticed her arms tiring. She gazed at Varhog's face the whole service, barely aware of Nasuada, Eragon, and Nar Garzhvog speaking or the many sobbing women. Her own tears made no appearance for once. The detachment prevented her from feeling anything.

When all became silent around her, Willow looked up and saw everyone nearest the grave watching her expectantly. "Do we stay while they lower his body into the ground?" she asked her mother.

"Yes, daughter."

This was it. The moment for their final goodbyes had arrived. Willow knelt down with the boys. "Say goodbye to dada," she invited. "Pretend he's sleeping and that he'll rest in the ground."

The boys wriggled out of her arms and climbed onto Varhog's chest, working as a team to push the huge blade off of him. It slid to the ground by his side. "Dada!" they joyfully cried. This was the first time since his death that they had been able to approach Varhog at their level.

Will looked at Var, confidently saying, "Dada pway."

The numbness abruptly left, and Willow sucked in a shuddering breath, knowing exactly what the twins were thinking. This was how Varhog acted during one of their favorite games, pretending to sleep while the boys did all sorts of silly things to try to get him to laugh or open his eyes. They began now by tickling his neck and pulling on his horns.

Var leaned over, blowing with his lips against Varhog's neck. When he sat up, he looked at Will in concern. "Dada cowd."

Will placed his hands on his father's cheeks before raising his eyes to Willow. "Dada cowd?" he wondered. "Mama!" He turned back to Varhog, pushing on his hard eyelids and lips, which didn't move under his insistent fingers. "Dada!" he anxiously cried. "Dada wake! Dada pway boys!"

Willow desperately sobbed, "He's gone, boys. He can't play anymore. He won't wake up. Say goodbye."

"No!" Will cried. "No say bye-bye!" He hugged around his father's neck as tears began to stream out of his shimmering golden eyes and fall on Varhog's face.

Var repeated the embrace by laying across his father's chest and spreading his arms out as wide as he could. "Bye-bye, dada," he cried, tears leaking out of _his_ shimmering eyes.

It was too much for Willow. She groaned in agony, clutching her abdomen and bowing forward until her forehead rested on Varhog. "Honored Mother," she gasped. "Rahna, if this is the trial I must shoulder, please help me. Please! Help me! I'm not strong enough to do this on my own. Make me stronger, I beg of you, and please somehow help my sons understand that they must say goodbye to their father, that he will never be able to play with them again."

She sobbed in utter devastation, completely unaware that all around her, all other sounds of weeping had ceased. Var got her attention by patting her hair. "Mama, wook," he insisted in a wondering voice.

Willow had never heard her son sound so amazed, so with great effort she lifted herself and turned to look. She was stunned to behold two heavenly beings standing beside her. The female was undoubtedly Rahna, She of the Gilded Horns. She was divinely beautiful with her flowing golden hair and glistening golden horns. With a beatific smile on her glorious face, she knelt beside Willow.

The ram by her side was equally magnificent—as tall as Varhog, with a powerful musculature, impressive curling horns, and dark hair that fell between his horns and down to his shoulders. His face was likewise glorious and perfected, composed of the strong, defined features that made all Urgralgra rams handsome to Willow. He likewise knelt down next to Rahna.

"Rahna?" Willow breathed in astonishment.

"Yes, my daughter," Rahna replied with surpassing love. "I am Rahna. This is my mate, Bolvek. We have heard your pleas for help and strength this past day. Never once have you asked for your difficult trial to be removed. Never once have you asked for Varhog to be returned to you. You and Varhog have faced your final test and come forth victorious, demonstrating the greatest love there is. As promised, your suffering is at an end and your reward will be great. Do you believe that your husband's life can be restored?"

-:-:-:-

* * *

 **A/N:** The last few chapters of this story contain sporadic mention of Christian spiritual beliefs, which some readers have appreciated and others have disliked. If you prefer not to read about that, I invite you to skip them. :)


	31. Spirit

31\. Spirit

Varhog's body screamed in agony, but never once did he cry out, knowing how it would affect Willow. She was intimately aware of his pain through their mental link, and she screamed for Varhog as King Kulkarvek crushed him to his chest and shattered every bone in his torso. The pain doubled, tripled, multiplied exponentially, until Varhog was grateful the king turned him, cinching his arm around Varhog's neck. He knew the end—and relief from the excruciating agony—was near.

Varhog stared at Willow's eyes, thinking his last words, _I love you, Willow. Fight for our sons. I'm so sor . . ."_ Then his eyes closed as consciousness faded.

A few moments later, Varhog reopened his eyes, aware at first of nothing but the absence of pain. Where was he? What was going on? He had been fighting King Kulkarvek and lost. He had died.

Varhog glanced down at himself, trying to focus his eyes. He was clothed, though he didn't remember getting dressed. He moved his hands to his body and experienced a strange phenomenon. His hands stopped on his chest where he placed them, but he didn't feel anything. Though he looked exactly the same, he had no flesh. There was nothing to touch that had physical form. He was a spirit.

Varhog lifted his eyes as his ears began to work in the way they once had. At least they must have, for he suddenly heard words. When he focused on them, Willow came into his view and then Kulkarvek, both standing right in front of him not far from where Varhog's physical body lay. The two living beings were slightly hazy, as if existing on a different plane, and Varhog realized they were. He was on a spiritual plane whereas they were on a physical one. But they must have intersected or overlapped to some extent, for Varhog _was_ observing them before him. There was no doubt about it.

"Willow?" he said. His voice worked. At least, Varhog heard it. But Willow didn't. She made no response as she spoke with King Kulkarvek. Varhog looked beyond his wife and grandfather. On the physical plane he saw the other Riders, his family, and all of the dragons. He heard Black Thunder keening in agonized despair.

 _My father?_ Varhog thought, feeling nothing in return. He no longer sensed his dragon.

Varhog then turned and noticed that the area behind him didn't shimmer and shift like things in the physical world. The clarity and focus of _this_ scene was perfect. There were two paths, leading away from each other to Varhog's right and left. The right-hand path was bright, and the feeling Varhog experienced when looking that way was of profound peace and rest. He _wanted_ to walk that path and felt like something was beckoning him to do so. But he felt no compulsion to begin following the road right away.

The path running to his left was different—dark, foreboding, and blocked by what appeared to be strong, tall pillars. Varhog felt no desire to tread that road and got the distinct impression that he wouldn't be able to if he tried.

Since he didn't feel compelled to immediately make his way toward the right-hand path, Varhog turned his attention back to Willow. Right then she smiled brilliantly, which had the same emotional effect on him as always. But his spirit couldn't respond in the ways his body would have, by catching his breath or skipping a beat of his heart.

Willow said, "I wanted to look my best when I became queen of the Urgralgra so I wore the nicest thing I own. It's one of my favorite colors because of how similar it is to my dragon's hue. Announce to your army that I will succeed you when I bring you down and that they will then answer to me."

Varhog grinned in admiration. Willow was utterly fearless, though she looked like a child in comparison to the king. He noticed Kulkarvek's change of expression—suddenly wary and faintly hopeful. Varhog knew his grandfather _wanted_ to die and guessed that Kulkarvek might be allowing himself to believe that he had finally met someone with the ability to release him from his miserable existence.

After Kulkarvek's intimidating proclamation, Willow grinned mockingly, and Varhog smiled with her as she scolded, "Come now, grandfather. Are such theatrics really necessary? You might have left off that last bit, for I will now defeat you." Varhog saw her determination and knew this would be short and efficient.

Which it was. Less than ten suspenseful minutes later, Willow lay pinned under the king's massive dead body. Varhog barely heard her weak cry for help, though he was already by her side trying to touch her, for his attention was unavoidably captured by Kulkarvek's spirit approaching the spirit realm.

Once his grandfather arrived, his awareness returned, and he looked at Varhog with wild eyes as he tried to comprehend what he was experiencing. Varhog helped him. "You just died."

"She did it?" Kulkarvek demanded. "That repulsive human killed me!"

"Aye," Varhog replied. "I wish you wouldn't disrespect her like that, but I fear there's not much I can do about it in my current state. Nor was there before." He grinned in passive acceptance. "Are you glad to be free of your miserable existence, grandfather?"

Kulkarvek scowled at him. "I'm never glad about anything."

"Our spirit must be responsible for our personalities," Varhog observed. "You seem just as hateful and volatile as ever. What a wretched way to live. I'm sorry you never found more joy in your life, though I can understand why. You had sore trials to endure. It's unfortunate they twisted and warped you as they did."

Kulkarvek lunged for him but experienced the same phenomenon Varhog had. His hands stopped at Varhog's spirit, but there was no sensation of contact.

Varhog smiled. "You already killed me, grandfather. I'm afraid you can't do it again. Your days of senseless murder are over, but I doubt your days of suffering are, judging by the ominous appearance of that left-hand path."

Kulkarvek glanced toward the path. "Do you see those two sentinels?" he fearfully asked.

"No. Where?" Varhog wondered, following his grandfather's gaze.

"At the entrance to that path. The dark one."

"I don't," Varhog replied. "All I see are tall, thick pillars."

"No!" the King roared. "The pillars are blocking the bright path."

"Not for me," Varhog pityingly replied. "Our choices in life must determine where we belong after, which makes perfect sense to me. I'm grateful I have the opportunity to walk the right-hand road."

"Why did you fight me?" Kulkarvek demanded in panic.

"So Willow would be successful in defeating you," Varhog answered, noticing his grandfather's growing fear as he repeatedly looked toward the dark road. "What's happening?"

"They're coming for me!" Kulkarvek screamed. "You knew you would die, yet you still faced me! Why?"

"It was my duty to protect Willow and our sons by laying down my life," Varhog said. "She had to see you fight to know how to face you, and she had to feel me die so she would maintain her grip until you did. She had never before ended someone's life."

"Such a noble hero," Kulkarvek derisively sneered.

Varhog sadly said, "It grieves me that unforgiveness and hatred prevented us from knowing one another as we ought to have. My mother only recently told us about you. She never missed you, but I'm sure she would have preferred sharing her family with her father had she not feared for our safety."

Kulkarvek yelled, "No! Let me go! I'm not going with you! You're just puny human men! You can't make me follow!" But they must have been able to, for Varhog's grandfather began moving away from him, his eyes wild again. "I'm sorry!" he bellowed. "Give me another chance! I'm sorry!"

But Varhog could clearly see it wasn't true. Kulkarvek was expressing the sorrowing of the damned, those who truly had cause to fear death, for it was then too late to change one's ways.

"Goodbye, grandfather," he said, watching Kulkarvek disappear into the darkness.

Varhog returned his attention to the physical plane. He had remained near Willow, as if bound to her by some inexplicable force. The army had begun to make its way back to the city. His dead body was secured to Black Thunder's belly, and Willow was staring at it hopelessly.

As Varhog walked with the procession, he observed that his spirit seemed to function in the same way his body had—his legs and feet lifting, taking him forward—but it didn't appear to be controlled by muscle. He moved himself into Willow's line of sight, between her eyes and his dead body, but she stared through him.

"Willow," Varhog whispered. Nothing. He raised his voice. "Willow." No acknowledgement. In his loudest volume he roared, "Willow!" and she didn't even blink. Tears streamed down her cheeks from empty, anguished eyes.

Tears welled up in Varhog's eyes. At least, it felt like it. He reached up to check and experienced the same maddening sensation of not feeling anything when his hand stopped on his cheek.

Varhog had feared this the most. Not dying, but knowing how it would affect Willow. "I'm so sorry, Eartheyes," he whispered in despair, wondering what good it would do to remain with her. But he nonetheless did, hoping to see his sons again.

His grief only deepened as he observed the other people accompanying his body back to the palace. Once they were inside, Varhog saw how Myrin reacted, and the fissure in his heart—or the spiritual equivalent—only widened. Why did death have this effect?

Back in their quarters, Willow nursed the boys. When they were asleep, she made her way to Varhog's physical form, lay down on his chest, and stared blankly at the wall for the next couple of hours.

"Oh, Willow," Varhog cried from his position next to the wall behind his head. "I'm so sorry." He knew his body must have been cold and hard. The hard wouldn't have been different except that he was so unmoving.

Varhog stepped forward and reached one arm out, attempting to place his hand on Willow's cheek. It stopped when it reached her, but he couldn't feel anything. No warmth, pressure, or contact. Varhog realized that he hadn't ever fully appreciated his body and the ability it gave him to feel and experience things, as well as to physically manipulate his surroundings.

When the other Riders came in, Varhog was grateful that Tomath covered Willow with a blanket. He could clearly see how cold she was and felt the renewed frustration of being completely unable to help her.

The way Tomath, Murtagh, and Knilf acted surprised and touched Varhog, who had never assumed the other Riders felt much affection for him beyond the comfortable brotherhood they expressed. Those emotions were overshadowed by the deep caring they felt for Willow.

Varhog knew the Riders discussed the needful arrangements for his funeral, but his attention was always on Willow or his sons. When the boys began to stir, Varhog noticed before anyone else and immediately knew they needed to go potty, but he couldn't help them or get anyone's attention.

As they headed outside to play with Sunset, Varhog's spirit accompanied them. "Will, Var," he called, trying to get their attention. "It's dada. Can you hear me, boys?"

The twins, who were waiting next to Garzhvog for Sunset to arrive, turned in the direction of Varhog's voice, but they stared right through his spirit form, and his grief nearly overwhelmed him. Varhog had only had one year with them, but there was so much he wanted to teach them and experience with them.

The boys looked so happy as they played with Sunset, but Willow looked heartbroken. Varhog sorrowfully witnessed her silent exchange with Black Thunder.

"I'm sorry, my father," Varhog said to his dragon, knowing he must be as devastated as Willow

A noise from behind Varhog made him turn, and he was astonished to discover his _real_ father approaching. "Father?" he breathed as the Kull ram stopped in front of him.

"Yes, my son," Yarbog affirmed. "I was notified you had entered the spirit world and received permission to come visit you."

"Spirit world?" Varhog repeated.

"Yes, Varhog. Where we now are. This right-hand path leads to a place known as spirit paradise, which is not heaven but a temporary dwelling place for righteous spirits. How did you die, son?"

"Kulkarvek killed me. Are you aware of anything that transpires in the mortal world from this realm?"

"We can be," Yarbog replied. "As you have observed, you can still perceive the physical world around you. The realms exist concurrently, but most people don't have an awareness of both. There are certain times when the veil between the worlds is thin, such as at the birth or death of a person, which makes sense when you consider that the spirit is traveling between realms at those moments. Perceptive individuals are sometimes able to sense the presence of those on the other side or even see them. Of course, beings from this existence are sometimes given assignment to visit those who live in the mortal world, which you have personally experienced, and we are occasionally allowed to appear in dreams to provide comfort for those we have left behind."

"Fascinating. I missed you, father, but I regret that I had to leave my wife and sons."

Yarbog turned to look at the twins as they cavorted about with Sunset. "They are beautiful, son. I remember how excited their spirits were for the opportunity to join you and Willow as a family. They knew how special their parents were. I'm only one of the countless many who is so proud of what you and Willow accomplished. When events capable of influencing the fates of nations and races are unfolding in the physical world, we in the spirit realm look on watchfully."

"Where did Kulkarvek go?" Varhog asked.

"He went to a place known as spirit prison, where spirits exist with a constant awareness of their earthly misdeeds. The guilt of their conscience serves as all the more punishment they need."

"Are you aware that mother and Garzhvog joined?"

"Yes!" Yarbog exclaimed, laughing. "Finally! Yvenna and I miss our earthly mates and anticipate the day we will be reunited with them and our bodies, but we mourned over their loss and pain, even as you do over Willow's. The purposes of earthly life are to obtain physical bodies, be tested, and find joy. The best opportunity for the accomplishment of all is in marriage and family life. Only a man and woman can create the physical body for a new spirit to inhabit, and in family life we experience the greatest joys and the deepest sorrows, which serve to test our faith and long-suffering."

Varhog nodded. "Am I allowed to stay and watch Willow for a time? I feel a desire to follow the path toward the light, but I don't feel compelled."

"You may stay for a time. Your good choices in life give you greater freedom than evil behavior, which principle is also true in mortality. People often perceive obedient living as restrictive, but the opposite is actually true, for the more we choose what is right, the more we increase our capacity to choose at all. Poor choices often lead to greater and greater vice in one's life, sometimes to the point of inescapable bondage.

"If an evil person appears to escape the consequences of their choices in life, the day will come when those consequences finally catch up with them. Such is the sad case with Kulkarvek. Few people realize that the purpose of their mortal existence is to provide a probationary period wherein they are tested and expected to grow and improve. This you did most admirably, my son. The Dragon Riders are exemplary models of disciplined, moral living.

"I stayed on as you now are for some time, mourning with Myrintuk and you children, until I saw that there was no more I could do for you. So I moved on and found new meaning to occupy me until Myrintuk joins me, but my thoughts are never far from her. We cannot truly progress without a physical body, but there is work to do here, and all have a part to play if they desire."

"That's very interesting," Varhog remarked. "Thank you for coming to see me, father. I suppose I'll see you again soon."

"Perhaps," Yarbog replied. "There are several possibilities before you, but the various outcomes depend on events that have not yet unfolded on the physical plane. You will know for sure soon enough. Goodbye, my son. Or until we meet again, as the case may be." His father gave Varhog a loving smile, reaching out to grasp his arm, though neither felt the touch.

"Goodbye, father," Varhog said, puzzling over his father's last words.

When he returned his awareness to his physical surroundings, Varhog realized that his spirit had changed locations and was now in his and Willow's room in the palace, leaning against the wall behind his head. Willow was on the bed with his letter in her hands and the fairth in her lap, tears coursing down her cheeks.

"Willow," Varhog whispered, wishing there was a way he could comfort her. She got off the bed, stumbled over to his body, wrapped a blanket tightly around herself, and climbed on top of him, falling into a fitful sleep.

Varhog moved his spirit into his body, lying down in the still form he had housed in life. He wasn't surprised that nothing happened. The force that had connected his spirit to his physical flesh had been severed, and Varhog didn't possess the knowledge of how to reestablish the bond. He nonetheless stayed where he was, for it seemed like he was under Willow as she slept on him, and though his physical eyelids were closed, his spiritual eyes could see her beautiful face, which looked peaceful—even happy—in sleep. He wondered if she might be dreaming about making love and hoped his final experiment with her had been effective.

Varhog realized that he no longer felt any passions of the flesh. He remembered the pleasure and satisfaction of their physical expression of love, but he didn't feel the longing to pursue it and absently supposed that would help him endure the endless span of time without Willow. Since the time of his death, Varhog had also never felt hungry, thirsty, tired, or as if he needed to relieve himself.

As Willow slept, Varhog worried that the twins hadn't nursed for several hours, knowing that Willow's body would continue making milk and that she would get painfully engorged, especially lying on her stomach.

Eventually Willow awakened, but it was too dark for her to see, so she used a simple spell to create a muted glow above his face and began to study him. It seemed to Varhog like she was staring into his eyes.

"Willow," he whispered. She didn't hear. But she was focusing intently, and her eyes gradually glazed, though Varhog knew she was trying to accomplish something very specific. He moved from his position inside his still body and stood by the wall, never taking his eyes from Willow's face as he leaned into his hands behind his back and lifted one foot to rest against the wall.

"Willow," he repeated, and she slowly raised her head, looking straight at him with recognition in her eyes.

"Varhog?" she breathed.

Though he didn't have a heart, the odd sensation of having it skip a beat visited Varhog again. He raised his eyebrows. "Can you hear me this time?" he asked in disbelief.

"Yes," she whispered in wonder. "This time? Have you said my name before?"

"Countless times since I left my body," Varhog answered, amazed that she could suddenly see him. That must have been what she was trying to accomplish when she had awakened and focused so intently then distantly on his face. "Seeing your sorrow has broken my heart, or whatever equivalent I have there in this form."

Her next words explained the expression on her face while she slept. "I dreamed of you making love to me while I slept. It worked, Yelloweyes. Thank you. It was beautiful. Everything you did, everything you said. You told me you would somehow always be near, and I thought you really might be, knowing what we do about how our spirits give us life. Though this body under me looks like you, it's _not_ you. _You_ are gone. I miss you so much, Varhog, and I still don't know how I'll tell the boys. They've asked about you, but they haven't yet noticed your lifeless form. I know I need to let them say goodbye before we bury your body, but how will I endure that? I'm trying to be strong and remember what Rahna said. You fulfilled your role perfectly, but mine seems so much harder because of how enduring it will be. Thank you for the fairth. And your letter. If you've been here long, you saw how that affected me. I'll always treasure them. Always."

"Willow," he mourned. "Willow, I'm sorry I had to leave you. This time I didn't just threaten to leave you. I actually did, and in a far more permanent way than before. Even after I promised I never would."

Willow slid off his body and approached him, raising her hand to rest it on his chest. Her hand didn't pass through his spirit, but where it stopped, he felt nothing, and it tore him apart. From the look of disappointment in her eyes, he knew she also couldn't feel him.

He lifted his hand to place it next to her warm, soft cheek and met with the same result. There was no feeling whatsoever, and it was the worst thing Varhog could imagine. He cursed himself for not savoring every opportunity he had to touch her while alive.

Desperate tears welled up in both of their eyes. "Don't cry, sweetheart," she entreated, her own tears spilling down her cheeks.

" _Am_ I crying?" Varhog wondered.

"It looks as if you are."

"That's how it feels emotionally, but I have no sensation of it."

"Oh, Varhog!" she dejectedly whispered. "I thought we did such an admirable job of preparing for this by smothering each other in our love. But already I find myself wondering if I can really recall the warmth of your touch, the feel of your body, the strength of your muscles. When I no longer have your smell or the sight of your physical form in front of me, what if I forget? What if I forget?"

Willow raised her other hand, placing it by the first and leaning her forehead into them. "Varhog," she begged in desperate longing, and he tried to enfold her in his arms, pretending they would be able to feel it.

Her tone turned to a whimper of hopeless grief, and he knew her perception of his spirit began to fade when she moaned, "Varhog. Please don't leave me again. Come back to me, sweetheart." Varhog choked back a sob, not knowing how to stay with her, wishing he could.

"Willow," Varhog whispered, certain she could no longer see or hear him when she fell to the floor at his feet. She should have been kneeling right on him, but he didn't feel it. His spirit simply shifted over slightly.

Varhog sat down beside her, raising his hand to hover over the invisible barrier formed by her hair as Willow rested her forehead against the wall. Her tears fell swiftly to the floor beneath her, and she repeated his name over and over. He leaned his head back, overcome with despair.

"I love you, Willow," he said to her, though it didn't reach her. Varhog would have sung to her, so he did anyway, choosing their song, which he recognized as an unintentional foreshadowing of the events of that day. How many times had he sung it to her? Dozens, at least. And every time, Varhog had pledged that he loved Willow enough to give his life for her. Yet _now_ , rather than a selfless sacrifice, it seemed the cruelest torture he could have ever inflicted upon her.

Varhog watched Willow as the hours passed, noticing when milk started dripping through her shirts. There was no way for him to get her attention and warn her, so he waited anxiously for her or the twins to stir.

The twins did first, and Willow startled awake when she heard their frightened voices, which was also the first time she noticed her predicament. Varhog winced as she stood, knowing she must be miserable. Over eight hours had passed since last any milk had been removed, and he remembered how painful it had been for Willow after only three.

Varhog observed in suspense as she began feeding the boys. Her expression was of pure, unadulterated anguish, and it was all she could do to keep herself from screaming in agony.

Knowing he would have been able to help Willow avoid such pain had he been with her, Varhog experienced a new feeling of futility join his current despair and wondered if it was perhaps the right time for him to move on. This sense of uselessness increased when the boys discovered his still body after using the washroom. Willow struggled to maintain her composure as she honestly explained what had happened, but the boys didn't understand.

Varhog's grief intensified with Willow's when Eragon arrived and attempted to comfort her. The boys wanted their father to help their mother be happy, but Varhog couldn't help her. As much as he longed to play with his sons and be the one holding Willow in his arms, he couldn't change the fact that he was dead. Willow was trying to move on. Varhog should too.

Varhog turned around to face the path toward the world of peace and took two resolute steps when he heard Willow say that she wanted to be alone with his body for the last few minutes she had. Curious, Varhog returned to his location behind the tables, grateful he did as Willow began saying her last goodbyes.

Willow frequently looked at him as she spoke, apparently remembering where he had stood the night before and hoping he would be there still. The way she communicated felt perfectly natural, as if they were not separated by the barrier between life and death.

Varhog alternated between smiling in amusement and weeping with grief during Willow's tender exploration, remembering how incredulous he was the first time she admitted she found him handsome. By the end, there had been no doubt in his mind that she meant it. Her love was so accepting, so convincing.

"My beautiful Eartheyes," Varhog whispered. "How will I exist without you? You were the dearest friend one could ever hope for. Loving you was the best thing I have ever had the honor of doing, and I've never been sorrier to leave you."

Varhog decided to remain with Willow until he was buried so he could make the most of her final moments with his physical body. As one caring male after the other—Murtagh, Garzhvog, his three brothers—embraced and comforted Willow, Varhog was grateful she would have such love and support in his absence.

Once she, Garzhvog, and his mother finished dressing Varhog's body, Willow walked around the tables to brush his hair, standing right in front of his spirit. Had their bodies been able to touch, they would have been.

Willow regretfully murmured, "So many things I never tried."

"I know what you mean," Varhog agreed, lifting his hands and unsuccessfully trying to run his fingers through her hair. "Someday, Eartheyes. Someday we'll be reunited, never to be parted again."

At length they were ready to leave. Willow was stunning in her steel-silk armor, though she looked too thin. Varhog worried, as Murtagh had, that Willow hadn't eaten in over twenty-four hours. The twins looked handsome but sad, apparently beginning to understand that something was wrong.

Varhog moved his spirit alongside Willow as she made her way to the grave his brothers must have dug for him. As Nasuada began to speak, Varhog heard a sound from behind him and turned to discover its source.

He was stunned to find a personage of indescribable perfection and beauty approaching him, and Varhog fell to his knees in worshipful reverence, knowing he was undoubtedly in the presence of deity.

The man smiled, encircling Varhog in his arms when he stopped. Varhog was overwhelmed by the love emanating from the being, which was so pure, powerful, and perfectly unconditional that it made Willow's strong adoration pale in comparison.

"I can feel you," Varhog breathed in astonishment as his face pressed into the man's bosom.

"Because I want you to, my son," the man replied in a voice of ageless wisdom.

"Are you my father?" Varhog asked. "The father of my spirit?"

"Our spiritual father is the same being," the man answered, "but I am unique in that He is not only the father of my spirit but also the father of my physical body. I experienced my mortal life on a world far from Alagaёsia, where I taught universal principles of truth and righteousness. You have learned and lived them most commendably, Varhog. Well done, faithful friend. Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends. Through your sacrifice, you have demonstrated the greatest love one can. And I am here now to extend your reward as promised by Rahna, who is also my faithful servant. Would you like to be reunited with your wife?"

Varhog was momentarily speechless. Then he stammered, "Uh . . . I . . . yes! More than anything. But I do not expect it. Willow and I thought this separation would be required of us, and we did our best to prepare for it."

The man smiled with deepest kindness. "And that is all that was expected of you—to be willing, to go through with it, and to do your best. That you do not expect your reward makes you all the more deserving of it, though it would have been extended nonetheless. You and Willow need to be together to fulfill your purpose in Alagaёsia."

"I . . . I don't know what to say. Words seem inadequate to express my gratitude and humility."

"Your gratitude becomes you, Varhog. Our father delights in extending gifts that bring joy to His children, which you understand as a father yourself, and He appreciates being thanked."

"But how?" Varhog meekly inquired. "I cannot rejoin my spirit to my body."

"No, Varhog, _you_ cannot," the man gently agreed. "But I can. In a sacrifice similar to your own, I laid down my life for the redemption of my spiritual brothers and sisters, conquering death and the grave in the process. Three days after my mortal death and by my father's power, I took up my life again as the first resurrected being, and this is also how your spirit will be rejoined with your body."

"Thank you," Varhog said with deepest humility. "I accept your gift."

"It will be extended even now through Bolvek, who is authorized to act in my name. My father and I have always entrusted mortal servants to oversee our work in the temporal worlds. You and Willow will be given the opportunity to fulfill such a role if you so choose, and Rahna and Bolvek will explain what that would entail. But you must be there to hear and, as always, it will not be forced upon you. Are you ready?"

"Yes," Varhog said. "Thank you. I will do all in my power to fulfill whatever opportunity or responsibility might be given me." As he returned his attention to Willow, Varhog was aware that the man departed.

Just as he looked, Rahna asked Willow, "Do you believe that your husband's life can be restored?"

Willow's tear-streaked face transformed with the most beautiful hope. "Yes," she whispered. "I _know_ it can. I never asked because I thought our trial required this separation. Though I know it can be done, I do not expect it."

"Which shows your worthiness and makes you all the more deserving," Rahna replied, echoing the sentiment expressed by the divine being. "Varhog has been prepared for this moment and is now awaiting his return." Her eyes flashed to Varhog's spirit, and she smiled knowingly. "Bolvek?" she expectantly said, turning to her mate.

Bolvek stood and made his way around to Varhog's head, where he knelt once again. The twins were watching in silent fascination, seemingly unsurprised by the events that were unfolding. Varhog wondered if that was because they had so recently existed in a spiritual realm. Children always were more innocent and believing.

Bolvek smiled at the boys with grandfatherly kindness. "Your dada will soon be back to play with you, lads," he said. Will and Var smiled their understanding, and Willow gasped in stunned hope, clutching Varhog's hand.

Bolvek extended his hands, placing them over Varhog's brow. In a tone of resounding authority he pronounced words similar to those spoken by Gelarik following Brom's stillbirth. "Varhog, son of Yarbog and Myrintuk, by the power I bear from Him whom we reverence as Father of us all, I say unto you, receive your spirit once again into your body."


	32. Eternal Love

32\. Eternal Love

Varhog was suddenly aware of his sons on his chest and the warm feel of Willow's hands around his. He looked down but couldn't see them because his eyes were closed, and he realized that he was back in his body. He slowly opened his eyes, squinting at the brightness of the morning sun, though it seemed dim in comparison to the brilliant light emanating from Bolvek and Rahna.

Willow sobbed joyfully, and the first beautiful sounds Varhog heard came from those he loved with an eternal love.

Willow cried, "Varhog," at the same moment his sons jubilantly exclaimed, "Dada!"

Varhog smiled, and it felt natural. His body was whole. The first word he spoke after being miraculously restored was the same as his last before his life ended. Raising his hand to Willow's tearstained cheek, he whispered, "Willow."

She grasped his hand with fervent zeal, leaning her cheek into it before turning her face to kiss his palm. Willow fell onto his body where she could—their sons were there too—and Varhog placed his arm over her back.

All around them, Varhog was aware of shocked muttering and restless shifting. People farther back must have been wondering what was going on, for two heavenly beings had descended into their midst only moments before. The confusion likely increased in response to the triumphant roar a short distance away, which Varhog instantly recognized as Black Thunder.

His dragon's mind was again linked with his, and Black Thunder gratefully thought, _My son, you have returned. I am coming in there to be with you. Warn the two-legs to make way if they do not wish to be crushed._

Varhog quietly laughed, sitting up so he could say, "Black Thunder is on his way to see me. We need to make some room for him to land."

The crowd farther back had some prior warning, for the huge black dragon was already in the sky, the thunderous sounds responsible for his name accompanying him. But Varhog nonetheless heard Nasuada's magnified voice proclaim, "Peoples of Alagaёsia, you are honored this day as firsthand witnesses of a miraculous occurrence. The esteemed hero Varhog, whose funeral brought us here this morning, has been restored to his body and lives once again. As you can surely see, his dragon rejoices with us and desires to be reunited with his Rider. Please move back to allow him to land."

Several minutes passed before the people nearest Varhog were able to widen their circle, but Black Thunder was finally able to descend behind his Rider. Varhog's family and all of the other Dragon Riders remained closest to the six people sitting on the ground.

His dragon stood close to his back, swiveling his neck so he could lower his face in front of Varhog's body. Black Thunder touched Varhog's forehead with his snout, silently cherishing the gift of Varhog's life.

Varhog raised his hands to Black Thunder's face. _Thank you, my father. I know how hard this last day must have been for you, but thank you for being there for Willow._

 _My son,_ the dragon simply replied, too overcome to add anything more.

Nasuada's words and Black Thunder's dramatic arrival alleviated the mounting confusion in the crowd, but, aided by Murtagh, Nasuada again raised her voice and cried, "We will undoubtedly have the opportunity to see and thank Varhog soon enough, but please remain calm and patient until that time. We must allow him the chance to recover and hear what our unexpected guests have come to share."

The two heavenly visitors had remained silently watchful during Varhog's reunion with his family and dragon, and Rahna now said, "Varhog will be very thirsty and hungry. He has not needed to fulfill those appetites in the past day and will feel the deprivation."

Varhog realized that Rahna was right. His throat was painfully dry. "I _am_ hungry and thirsty, but I'll wait to eat until Willow does. Is there water here?"

Myrin was among those standing nearest Varhog's grave, and she demonstrated great presence of mind in spite of the astonishing miracle she had just observed. As a mother of small children, she was prepared everywhere she went with food and drink, and she turned to Tarhvek, who held the pack wherein such victuals were stored, to retrieve the requested item.

Extending the small bottle of water to Varhog, Myrin apologized, "It's not much."

"It's perfect," Varhog reassured. "Thank you, Myrin."

Myrin smiled joyfully through the tears running down her face. "You're welcome, Varhog," she whispered.

Varhog quickly drained the small jar and cleared his throat. His sons, who sat side by side on one of his thighs, seemed inspired.

"Mama miwk?" Will hopefully requested.

Varhog looked at Willow, who was gazing at him in rapturous joy. "Eartheyes, with my help can you feed them now?"

"Oh, Varhog!" she cried, reaching up to grasp his face. "With your help I can do anything!" She wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her cheek to his horn as she loved to do. "I'm so inexpressibly grateful you're back."

"Yes," Varhog fervently agreed, holding her tightly against him with his free arm, breathing in the smell of her hair. "Rahna and Bolvek have further information to share with us. Perhaps they can do so while the boys nurse, but I don't want to wait long before making sure you get something to eat." His first thought was for her and his sons.

"Thank you, sweetheart," Willow murmured. "Watching out for me as always."

"Always," Varhog echoed. When Willow pulled back, he moved his hand to the back of her neck and leaned forward to kiss her, attempting to express his deep adoration. "I love you eternally, Willow." She nodded, too overcome for words. "May I help you with your shirt?"

Willow smiled with the faintest hint of teasing, which Varhog didn't miss. "Please," she invited.

Varhog grinned. _Love you, Eartheyes._

 _Love you more, Yelloweyes,_ she rejoined, exchanging their inside joke. She pulled her steel-silk shirt off with both hands, which left little for Varhog to do. _You can help me with the rest later,_ she consoled with another playful smile.

Varhog pulled her against him again, knowing she would now be able to feel it. "I'm so glad I only had to be apart from you for a day," he whispered. "Countless decades or longer would have been unbearable."

"I agree," she said, climbing over his thigh and settling against his chest in their favorite position to nurse the boys. "Ready boys?" she brightly asked, smiling at the twins.

"Mama happy!" Var cheered.

"Dada hewp mama be happy!" Will added.

"Yes, honey," Willow confirmed. "As he always has."

"Dada go bye-bye?" Var worried.

"Not anymore, my boy," Varhog answered.

"Wuv yoo, dada," Var earnestly said.

"Wiw wuv dada too," Will insisted, not wanting to be left out.

"Oh, my sons," Varhog said, tears filling his eyes as he hugged his sons into Willow's chest. "I love you too. Both of you. So much, I can't even begin to say. Thank you for trying to help mama when I was gone. I saw you worry for her, and I was so touched. She would have been all right in time with two sons such as you, but I'm so glad that I'm back to help you fill her life with joy. She deserves it above all others."

"Dada pway boys?" Var asked, raising a small hand to wipe tears from Willow's cheek.

"Very soon, sweetie," Varhog promised. "Would you like your milk first? Then mama needs to eat."

"Milk pwease," Var politely requested, leaning forward to plant a small kiss on his mother's cheek.

"Thank you, sweetie," Willow whispered. "And you too Will," she added as he repeated his brother's gesture.

Varhog smiled at his sons, helping them situate themselves on his legs, where they would sit while they nursed. Once they had happily started, Bolvek spoke, and both Varhog and Willow startled slightly at his deep voice. They had been so wrapped up in their little family that they had all but forgotten the hundreds of people still gathered for Varhog's funeral.

But Bolvek addressed Rahna, "That looks familiar, doesn't it?" he commented. "It was so long ago that we did the very same thing with our two babies."

"Indeed," Rahna lovingly agreed. "Thousands of years. And yet I remember it like it was yesterday. And soon we'll get to enjoy that privilege again, only this time you'll be by my side in your current form day and night, rather than during the night alone."

"Which honor fills me with deepest gratitude," Bolvek replied, raising her hand to his lips. Theirs was clearly a love more eternal and enduring than Varhog and Willow's. Bolvek turned to regard the family in front of him. "Varhog spoke honestly when he mentioned that we have further information to share. And we will do so now, so that you may then eat."

The two Urgals arose to stand, and Bolvek raised his voice, somehow speaking in a tone all would hear as he authoritatively said, "Peoples of Alagaёsia, my name is Bolvek and this woman is my mate Rahna. We are the father and mother of the Urgralgra race, and we are honored to be among you today. As your high queen has shared, Varhog, the Urgal Dragon Rider of the Bolvek tribe, whose burial you came to observe, has had his life restored. Varhog and his wife Willow have been prepared from before the foundation of this world to fulfill a special purpose in this land."

Rahna took over in a voice equally clear and commanding: "For millennia my mate and I have served as stewards over the Urgralgra race, since before the time that our descendants arrived in Alagaёsia. In this land, our posterity has multiplied and prospered. As the Urgralgra in other lands have dwindled, we have sought to encourage peace in Alagaёsia and the continuation of our people's natural ways that originated with Bolvek and myself."

Bolvek continued, "Imagine our distress as we witnessed our children begin to emphasize those animalistic tendencies inherited from me, which led to the love of battle and bloodshed so many justly attribute to the Urgralgra race, as well as the eventual hatred and prejudice between them and the other races of Alagaёsia. Such views were only strengthened by the natural instinct all creatures feel to fear those who are different, as our offspring clearly are, in an effort to protect their loved ones from potential danger."

"Our sorrow intensified," Rahna went on, "with the tragic events preceding King Kulkarvek's unprecedented reign. His animosity worsened the conflict burdening Alagaёsia during Galbatorix's rise to power. We foresaw what would happen if Kulkarvek's rage continued unchecked. As he said yesterday, Kulkarvek would have persisted in his murderous ways, killing countless members of every race in the land." Rahna paused, glancing toward her mate.

Bolvek resumed, "Eragon Shadeslayer played an essential role in establishing peace between the Urgralgra and the other races. His time spent with Nar Garzhvog introduced him to the gentler ways of our people and helped him realize that some of the Urgralgra were open to change. In extending the Dragon Rider pact to include all of the sentient, two-legged races of Alagaёsia, Eragon set the stage for the first act of our plan to overthrow Kulkarvek, which was that Varhog and Knilf would become the first Dragon Riders of their respective races in the history of Alagaёsia. Varhog's relationship with Nar Garzhvog and similarities with the dwarven Rider Knilf were necessary prerequisites. He shares his uncle's view that the Urgralgra need to change for peace to prevail, and in helping Varhog and Knilf overcome their stubborn enmity, our heroine was able to prove her worth from the very beginning."

Rahna lovingly regarded Willow while addressing the crowd at large, "Willow of Feinster was prepared to play the crucial role of overcoming any prejudice and barrier until she ultimately faced King Kulkarvek. We knew that the difficulties facing our race needed to be overcome by a human, for Kulkarvek's deepest grievances were against humans. And that human needed to be unlike any other, one who would never look upon the Urgralgra in fear or loathing, one who would learn to accept them with devotion. Her acceptance of and friendship with Varhog led to their love and marriage, which was the impetus for Kulkarvek's emergence from seclusion, but Willow only came to master her technique for subduing an Urgal ram in single combat through Varhog's unfailing support and guidance, and we knew there was only one way the Urgal king could be killed. Willow and Varhog's partnership was our solution to eliminating the threat posed by Kulkarvek, and they fulfilled their roles magnificently. Their reward is one another and the enjoyment of their love for now and all of eternity. They will now experience the peace they have ensured for the rest of the land."

"But that was all shared by way of explanation," Bolvek said with the deep-chested chuckle characteristic of his race. "We are responsible for extending a new opportunity to Willow and Varhog. Our proposition is three-fold. By defeating Kulkarvek, Willow would have been recognized as queen of the Urgralgra, but rule under a monarch is a relatively recent phenomenon in Urgralish history, a right granted to Kulkarvek for his accomplishment of killing a dragon. And since no one could oppose him and he could not die by natural means, his reign continued uncontested for many long decades. So we propose that Willow and Varhog be recognized not as rulers of the Urgralgra, but as stewards over Urgals and humans inasmuch as their unique relationship is needed to ensure the peaceful coexistence of the races in the land. Much must yet be done before humans and the Urgralgra will live together with the same level of friendship that brought Willow and Varhog together. "

Rahna went on, "Bitter clan rivalry is also a fairly new development, a devastating result of Kulkarvek's misguided attempts to protect the Urgralgra. To ensure that they may remain in Alagaёsia, we wish for our people to return to the peaceful ways they enjoyed before Kulkarvek's reign, and our second recommendation is the dissolution of the current clan rivalry between the various Urgralgra tribes."

"And finally," Bolvek concluded, "we request the complete acceptance of the old requirements surrounding a ram's eligibility to marry. The amended ways—which were actually the original ways before Kulkarvek altered them—hold that an Urgralgra ram may prove his worthiness to take a mate by bringing three foes into submission. These have been embraced by many clans, and we now ask that they once again be recognized by every Urgralgra clan. The competitive Games instated by Eragon Shadeslayer provide a suitable way to satisfy that condition. We hope they will proceed as intended now that the threat with Kulkarvek has been resolved. Varhog, Willow, you have a choice to make."

"I accept," Willow cried without hesitation. "I'm honored to be found worthy of such an essential role, and I would do all I could to ensure such an outcome whether I was formally recognized as stewardess of the Urgralgra or not. I love the Urgralgra. I want every human to have the opportunity to learn and be blessed by their ways, whether or not they get the additional blessing of having one as their mate."

Varhog echoed, "I also accept, with full dedication and deepest humility. We will perform this new role to the best of our abilities, as we always have done."

"Which has always been enough and more," Bolvek extolled. "Then our work here is finished. Willow and Varhog, you are true heroes in every word and deed, and you—along with the other noble leaders and Dragon Riders in the land—will guide the races to greater peace and prosperity than ever before. We will entrust the establishment of the details we have proposed to your stewardship, for your judgement is sound. No two have ever been better equipped to resolve these concerns and bring about a peaceable solution. Thank you for accepting this responsibility. Fare thee well."

"Wait!" Willow cried. "I want to say goodbye!"

The twins had fallen asleep nursing, so Willow asked Varhog, "Will you please hold one of the boys, sweetheart?" Varhog smiled affectionately and helped Willow shift Var into his left arm. She adjusted her hold on Will, raising him to her shoulder.

After quickly covering herself, Willow looked up at Bolvek, who extended his hand to help her stand. He pulled her right into his chest, and she wrapped her free arm around his back.

"Thank you, Bolvek," Willow breathed, tears of joy filling her eyes. "Thank you for returning my husband to me and for the promise that we will never again be parted. I will always remember you."

Bolvek kissed the top of her head, "None is more worthy than you, brave Willow, of the peace and happiness you will now enjoy. I am honored to have played a part in helping you attain your full excellence. Share what you have learned with those it might help. Knowledge of the ways of heaven brings peace, joy, and fulfillment wherever it is received."

"I will," Willow earnestly vowed, turning to repeat her embrace with Rahna.

"I always identified with you from the moment I first heard your beautiful legend," Willow began, "which turned out to be completely true. It affected me so deeply. Thank you for your pure love, which so influenced my own, though I didn't know of it when I fell in love with Varhog. The power of your story inspired me to call on you at Brom's birth. Thank you for the guidance you gave that led to that miracle. It solidified our faith—mine and Arya's—and bound us together as no earthly bonds have ever joined two sisters. She was then able to help me when I gave birth. Thank you for coming. I'm so glad I had the chance to meet you once, though I couldn't then. Thank you for your counsel to Varhog at that time, which prepared us for this trial and this joy. I will always remember you and will always be grateful. I will exemplify your love for the rest of my life."

"I know, sweet Willow," Rahna said, kissing Willow's forehead. "You truly are amazing in every way, and the world of Alagaёsia will always be better because of you. I am overjoyed that we could be the instruments in bringing you and Varhog together and in restoring him to you. This time can now be one of celebration, as it should, rather than mourning, as it was. We love you." She turned her arms to Varhog, who had already clasped Bolvek in a grateful embrace. "Fare thee well, Varhog and Willow." She raised her voice. "Fare thee well, peoples of Alagaёsia. May you dwell together in peace from this time forward." She and Bolvek joined hands and, with glorious smiles on their faces, ascended to the sky in a pillar of light.

* * *

 **A/N:** I briefly describe an intimate love scene near the end of the following chapter.


	33. Fulfillment

33\. Fulfillment

Murtagh again magnified Nasuada's voice as she cried, "Peoples of the land! We have witnessed momentous events! As counseled, let us now celebrate the deeds of these two heroes. I have given word for a royal feast to be prepared. All are invited to join us in honoring Willow and Varhog, as well as in partaking of the plenty of my kingdom. Now that Kulkarvek has been vanquished, we will move forward with our plans to hold the Games. The opening ceremony will be held two days hence at midday. Make your way to the palace!"

The crowd cheered and began to disperse, but those nearest Willow and Varhog—their closest circle of family and friends—remained. Willow leaned weakly into Varhog, feeling the effects of not eating in over thirty-six hours and nursing her babies all throughout that span.

"Are you well, Eartheyes?" Varhog asked in concern, looking down at her.

"Marvelous," Willow reassured with a dazzling smile. "Just a bit hungry."

"I know what you mean," Varhog said. "Though I didn't nurse two monstrous cubs a dozen times in the past day. I felt so helpless watching you during that time. There was nothing I could do to comfort you or warn you when the boys slept so long."

"I'm so thankful you were there with me, Yelloweyes," Willow tenderly said. "And I think it counts that you died and were raised from the dead. You have also earned your appetite." She favored him with another breathtaking smile.

Myrin again approached to save the day, extending the pack of snacks as she said, "Here, you two. I know this isn't nearly enough, but at least it will keep you from passing out until we can make our way to this feast."

"Thank you, Myrin," Varhog repeated, immediately handing it to Willow. "You first," he insisted.

Willow accepted the pack, which contained apple slices, hard crackers, small sandwiches, vegetables, cheese, dried meat, and other child-friendly foods, holding it in the hand supporting Will so she could fish around with her free hand and retrieve one of the sandwiches. She stuffed the whole thing in her mouth, which wasn't as unladylike as it might have been because of its small size.

"Yes," Willow agreed with her mouth full. "Thank you, Myrin." She grinned after she swallowed.

"Oh, Varhog!" Myrin cried, throwing her arms around him. "I'm so relieved you're back. I've alternated between wishing you had informed us of your plans so we could have better prepared to being grateful I had no prior knowledge that I would lose my favorite brother. I have no idea how Willow survived witnessing your death. You two truly are heroes. And what just happened when Bolvek and Rahna appeared was unbelievable. So, so amazing! Thank you for your sacrifice, brother. You saved us all."

"Myrin, please," Varhog objected, smiling as he returned her embrace with his free arm. "I love you too."

Myrintuk was upon him next, sobbing, "Oh, my son! It was infinitely worse watching my father brutally murder you than it was to lose my mate and never see his body again. I'm so grateful you have been returned to us. I love you, Varhog."

"Thank you, mother," Varhog gently said. "I love you too." He glanced over to make sure Willow was still eating. She was. With relish. He smiled then turned back to his mother. "What happened to Kulkarvek's body?"

"It was buried," Myrintuk said sadly, "which is probably more than he deserved."

"I can only feel compassion when I think of my grandfather," Varhog said. "He had grievous trials to bear. The biggest tragedy is that he didn't allow love and forgiveness to heal his broken heart. Hate and vengeance devoured him until he was completely twisted from the ram he might have been. So many here might have arrived at the same fate had they not allowed healing in their lives. Anyone who has lost someone they love to a premature and senseless death or endured unjust suffering might face that outcome. I am indescribably grateful for those powers and the ability they give us to overcome all that is bad and wrong in the world."

"Yes, son," Myrintuk earnestly said. "I am proud of you."

Garzhvog then offered his thanks, followed by Eragon and Arya.

Eragon gave Varhog a one-armed squeeze. "Thank you for your sacrifice, Varhog," he said. "You saved my wife and son and our whole world. You are a true hero."

"No more than you," Varhog modestly denied. "We both had our parts to play. I wouldn't have been able to fulfill mine without you. You heard what Rahna said."

"Aye," Eragon agreed. "It's amazing how interconnected everything is. It seems nothing happens by chance."

"So it seems," Varhog echoed.

Arya gave him a tight hug. "Thank you, Varhog. Your love is so beautiful. You have long expressed a willingness to lay down your life for Willow. That you actually did was heart-wrenching. I could barely stand to watch it, but it was the only way she could be successful, wasn't it?"

"It was," Varhog said. "You all seem to be downplaying the role Willow played. She is the true heroine. She triumphed over Kulkarvek."

"You brought him down together," Arya corrected. "In the same way that Eragon and I faced Galbatorix and Shruikan united. We truly are strongest when we rely on one another. And many of us have thanked Willow. We couldn't thank _you_ before. Remember?" She smiled teasingly.

"Yes," Varhog agreed, also smiling. "Hard to thank a dead body. But I was there in spirit. I would have heard, though I wouldn't have expected you to think of that."

"I did," Willow proudly said.

"But no one here compares to you, Willow," Varhog patiently returned. "You have somehow attained a completely unsurpassable level of child-like faith and understanding, though your knowledge on these matters is equal to many of the rest of us here, particularly those who were in Ellei-an's meadow."

"It might also have something to do with how desperately anxious I was to hold on to you," Willow reminded him. "I'm so glad I didn't have to fully let you go, sweetheart."

"I couldn't agree more," Varhog said. "Anyone else here want to come forth and express their undying gratitude? I'm starving to death." He chuckled good-naturedly and endured the many more embraces and words of thanks from everyone in his family and all of his fellow Riders and their companions. He wasn't as worried about himself as he was about Willow, but she continued eating through all of the expressions of love and gratitude.

Varhog was stunned when Rhunön of Ellesméra humbly made her way forward. "Rhunön!" he cried. "How did you come to be here?"

Rhunön regarded him gravely. But then a faint smile softened her wrinkled face. "You mean your wife didn't tell you? You had only just died. I'm surprised such a thing would slip her mind at a time like that."

Varhog chuckled. "No, I suppose Willow didn't think to mention it. I'm sorry I didn't notice you before."

Rhunön waved her hand dismissively, explaining, "I came because I knew you had died through a spell placed on Drajavek. I immediately responded to the pull out of concern for Willow. I arrived in time to watch her fight and defeat Kulkarvek. I just saw and heard everything that transpired. You were dead. And now you're alive. I saw the miracle you all witnessed at Brom's birth. Now I can no longer listen skeptically or doubt silently. Old Rhunön the elf smith may become a believer yet. Do you suppose they have need of a good blacksmith in heaven? I might like to move on from this endless existence." She laughed her grating laugh.

Varhog and Willow joined her. "Thank you for Willow's armor," Varhog earnestly said. "It did exactly as it was meant to, tipping the scales toward good in our world. She would have been killed if not for your gift."

"You're welcome," Rhunön said. "I'm glad I made it. Another instance to confirm my previous feeling that I must always follow such impressions. I'm beginning to think they come from a different source than I always believed. Perhaps the heavens reach grizzled old Rhunön and involve her in the affairs of the land she strives most zealously to avoid." She let out a rough bark of a laugh, briskly rubbing her hands together. "Well! Ilirea! It has been ages since last I was here. Might as well stay for a time. Do you object, Your Majesty," she asked Nasuada.

"Of course not, honored one!" the queen cried. "Won't you also stay for the Games?"

"The Games!" Rhunön exclaimed. "Aye. That will be most interesting for one such as myself."

"You seem to be in high spirits, honored one," Murtagh casually commented. "Perhaps this is the time to ask. Would you consider reworking Zar'roc for me as you did Támerlein for Arya?"

"What!" Rhunön objected. "Ruin a perfectly good blade? I'll grumble about it all the while, Your Highness, but I suppose I might as well. Am I getting soft in my old age? Then it has taken a while for it catch up. I've been old for centuries." Another gruff laugh escaped, and the others joined in. "Well, this is a royal palace! Is there any food to be had? What say you to attending this feast I heard mentioned?"

"Certainly, honored one," Murtagh agreed with a laugh. "Join us for our feast."

They began making their way back to the palace, and once they reached the courtyard, Varhog said, "Murtagh, where are the kitchens?"

"Why would you think to ask me?" Murtagh wondered in feigned ignorance. "I haven't a clue." After a moment he chortled and added, "I'll show you, Varhog. Of course I know. I make my way there at least three times daily, though we are served three hearty meals a day. But why do you want to know? The feast will be out in the pavilion."

"I need to pass along some of the effulgent praise I just received before it goes to my head," Varhog lightly answered. "I feel an inexplicable desire to express gratitude to those who might often go unappreciated. Though I should find solace in the knowledge that you are such a frequent guest. I'm sure you remember your manners enough to thank the people who tirelessly work to feed you and everyone else in the palace at any given time."

"Indeed," Murtagh agreed. "It's hard not to think of things like that once you have been under the mentorship of the Eldunarí for any length of time. The cooks and I get along famously. Nasuada is a good queen and rewards her servants well. They are loyal to her unto death. Like someone else I know."

Nasuada nudged him playfully. "That's thoughtful of you, Varhog," she approved. "They will no doubt feel the honor, but don't stay away too long. You're the hero of the day and quite rightly so. It's not often a crowd such as that witnesses someone being raised from the dead. And many of us have had the opportunity to be present for such a miracle twice within the past eighteen months."

After giving Nasuada a quick kiss, Murtagh said, "I'll be back in a moment, my dear. Come along, Varhog and Willow."

"Don't be gone long," Rhunön called after them. "I want a chance to meet those strapping sons you're holding."

-:-:-

Many Urgralgra war chiefs were present for the Games, and they pledged their commitment to fully embrace the proposition set forth by Bolvek and Rahna. The entire race indicated their acceptance of Willow and Varhog in the stewardship roles they had accepted. After seeing or hearing about Willow kill King Kulkarvek in single combat, every Urgal was undyingly loyal to her, though she would not be succeeding Kulkarvek as monarch of the race.

Kulkarvek's death was a huge relief to the entire race. No one had cared for him, but none had the ability to defy him. The Delvhtuk clan of Anghelm and the Urgralgra recruits Kulkarvek had gathered during his march remained in Ilirea as welcome guests. The young rams from Anghelm were invited to take part in the Games, which opportunity had been denied them by Kulkarvek almost since the Games' inception.

-:-:-

Murtagh, Willow, and Varhog soon rejoined the others in the great pavilion where the feast was underway. The cooks were so flattered by Varhog's kind attention that they had given him several special treats and fine cuts of tender meat. Varhog had quickly eaten his fill in the kitchens, which was wise, for he was once again swarmed by countless thankful people—humans, elves, dwarves, and Urgals alike—all of whom had been present at the scene of the confrontation with Kulkarvek.

Though not all had been close enough to personally witness the fighting leading up to Varhog's death, talk of the events had been constantly circulating throughout the city and camps, and everyone was aware of what Varhog had done to ensure Willow's success, thus entirely preventing any further loss of life. As such, they were revered by all, while also becoming more beloved by those who knew them before the previous day.

Will and Var remained asleep for a long while, reassured by their father's presence and their mother's happiness. But when they did awaken, Varhog fulfilled his promise to play with them, after they nursed, pottied, and ate, of course. All of those favorite activities were accomplished with his loving assistance.

Varhog and Willow were kinder and more affectionate than they ever had been, though it truly wasn't much different from their usual behavior. The one day that Varhog had been a cold, lifeless body was indelibly etched in their memories, and they each made an unspoken vow to cherish every moment of life they would enjoy together.

Rhunön was delighted to meet the boys, who were equally thrilled to meet another person like An-tee Awee and An-tee May-wee. Their approximation of her name instantly won her, for they called her 'An-tee Woo-non.' When they learned that Rhunön had made their father's and mother's swords, they treated her to an adorable display of sword play, seriously undertaken with two straight branches retrieved from under an ancient tree near the pavilion.

Every guest was perfectly content. One could clearly guess as much from the sublime expression of joy that never left Elva's face, though she was surrounded by hundreds of people from every race found in the land of Alagaёsia. Never before had such feelings of friendship and acceptance existed in a gathering of so many Urgals and humans. Elva had once told the Riders they were onto something, and she seemed to prove her words in the way she treated Tomath. She had obviously taken a liking to him, as he was nearest her age and just the right combination of humble, timid, and peaceful for her tastes.

Varhog and Willow stayed and participated in the merriment of the evening, which consisted of singing, dancing, and friendly brawling. The third, however, they utterly refused to take part in, which everyone understood. Fortunately, the celebration took place in a large clearing, for the dragons insisted on being present, particularly Black Thunder, who was never far from Varhog's side.

But when the boys began to tire, the couple of honor announced that they would be retiring for the evening to allow their sons to rest. The other Riders easily guessed the second and equally compelling reason for their departure, which soon inspired similar farewells from the other married Riders. The festivities continued long into the night, and those who had excused themselves carried on in a different but similarly joyful manner in their private bed chambers.

-:-:-

After nursing the twins to sleep, Willow leaned into Varhog's strong arms, resting her cheek against him.

"I would be happy to remain here all night, where I can feel your warmth and breathing," she told him. "Your body was drastically different without your spirit."

"Thank you for your beautiful gift as you said your final goodbyes," Varhog responded. "What made it even more exquisite was that I already knew all of your feelings because of how often you shared them with me. I no longer doubted that you adored every part of me and found me perfectly desirable. You couldn't see me, but the way you were communicating felt so natural."

"Will you help me lay them down?" Willow asked.

Varhog took Will and moved him across the bed, where he adjusted himself to get comfortable, remaining peacefully asleep. When Varhog placed Var next to Will a moment later, they automatically joined hands, appearing all the more content thereafter.

Willow gazed at them for a moment. "It's so precious how close they are," she whispered. "Maybe we'll have twin girls next." She turned to look at Varhog. "I'm so glad all of my next babies will be yours, Yelloweyes. I couldn't bear the thought of being with anyone else, though you encouraged me to one day attempt such a thing. Maybe it wouldn't have seemed so unwelcome in time, but it was agonizing after just losing you. I've never wanted anyone but you. And now I never need worry again."

She twisted all the way around to face him, pressing her face into his chest where she could hear his heart, savoring the feel of his body full of warmth and life.

"I like that thought, Eartheyes," Varhog agreed, encircling her in his arms. "We need many daughters. This world will never face another conflict again if there are half a dozen Willows running around for the next many centuries. How many children _do_ you want to have? I can't believe I've never asked you that before. How many other things did we never ask or learn about one another? I had best not be so careless again."

Willow smiled against his chest. "Dozens of children with you would be perfectly fine with me. When we care for the boys as a team, the work seems almost effortless. They will most likely be several years old before the time even comes that I can conceive again. But it has been so welcome not to have to deal with a menstrual flow all these months. I can see myself longing for another baby before I'm able to have one. Maybe since the boys are so smart, they'll understand and agree to modify their nursing approach if it means their mama might get to give them a younger sibling."

"One of my deepest regrets when I was observing you as a spirit was that I had so little time with the boys," Varhog admitted, looking at them again. "There's so much I want to teach them and do with them and all of the children we have. Being parents is our next great adventure, Willow, and I'm so grateful we get to be mates the whole time."

"Truly," she agreed. "What was it like being a spirit, sweetheart?"

"It was strange," Varhog answered. "I had no physical sensation without my body. I could move and speak as I had before, but it all happened without the use of any of my organs, so I really don't know how it did. I couldn't feel anything. When I tried to touch myself or you, it was like my hand reached an invisible barrier of air where I should have made contact, which was indescribably frustrating. Kulkarvek tried to attack me again after he died and couldn't. I found it amusing. My father also couldn't touch me."

"Tell me more about your experience," Willow entreated

So Varhog did, including his meeting with the divine being.

"How fascinating!" Willow exclaimed when Varhog had finished, remaining silent for several moments as she mused over his account.

At length she continued, "I was so overwhelmed thinking about being the Urgal queen without you, Varhog. Honestly, I'm relieved that will no longer be expected of me. I much prefer this new arrangement—where the Herndall and war chiefs will govern the individual clans, and we will only be involved when needed to ensure peace between our races. But everything seemed hard—indeed, nearly impossible—without you. It was all I could do to remember to breathe, which shouldn't require memory at all." She giggled at herself.

"It has been so long since I last heard that sound," Varhog gently commented, raising a hand to cup her cheek and skimming his thumb over her smiling lips. "I didn't know how I was going to go on without you, Eartheyes. I need you. We complete each other."

"Yes, we do," Willow agreed. "Did you feel passions of the flesh as a spirit?"

"No, I didn't," Varhog replied. "Which was welcome. It would have helped me endure the long time without you. I never felt the need or desire to eat, drink, sleep, relieve myself, or—most importantly—to make love to you."

Willow raised her eyebrows. "Do you now?"

Varhog teased, "I feel no desire to eat, drink, sleep, or relieve myself. Maybe I'm still a spirit." He paused dramatically, and Willow's smile widened as she guessed where he was going.

"Wait, what's this?" Varhog exclaimed. " _I_ feel the desire to make love to _you?_ It cannot be! I guess I'm really back, Eartheyes. It will always be there, even when I'm as old and grisly as Kulkarvek. Will you still have me then?"

Willow laughed at him, and Varhog chuckled in response. "Oh, I love that so much," Willow confessed. "This perfect chest of yours never ceases to provide me with every manner of fulfillment. Why is it still covered by this shirt?"

"I was cold."

"Pfff!" Willow scoffed. "Then I'm failing in my duty as your wife! And yes, by the way. I'll still have you when you're as old and grizzled as Kulkarvek, though you'll never be grisly in my eyes. So long as you'll still have me when I'm as gruff and wrinkled as Rhunön."

Varhog laughed more loudly. "Fair enough. You or me?" he wondered, glancing down at his shirt.

"Me!" she cried. "Of course! Need you even ask? I'll never pass up an opportunity to get you naked, Varhog. Although this morning was the first time I have ever intentionally _clothed_ you." She expertly removed his shirt while Varhog helped by raising his arms. "Now do me," she demanded, lifting her own arms.

"Gladly," he agreed, pulling off her shirt just as easily. She leaned into him, and he wrapped his arms around her, both sighing contentedly at the same time.

"Perfect," she breathed before warning, "Here come the tears."

"I'm so glad they'll be a part of this, dear friends that they are," Varhog whispered. "Here come mine."

Willow pulled back to look at him. "Yelloweyes," she tenderly whispered, infusing his nickname with every feeling of acceptance and adoration she had ever felt for him. "I like it when you cry like me."

"Eartheyes," he replied just as tenderly. "If I cry like you, will you be a beast like me?"

"You know I can't help it with all of that sensual, animalistic appeal oozing out of you." She smiled.

Varhog touched her lips with his finger, slowly leaning forward, and Willow's stomach fluttered. He stopped when his lips were barely brushing hers.

"Let's pretend it's our first time," he suggested, and her gut clenched more powerfully. "You asked me if I remember what this once did to us. I'll always remember."

"Can I grope you after, since I won't have time?" Willow's smile widened, creating the smallest gap between their lips. Varhog closed it.

"I _suppose_ ," he allowed with mock gallantry, and she laughed. Varhog growled, "I'm burning for you, Eartheyes. Can I kiss you now?"

"I thought you'd _never_ ask," Willow teased. "Though this is _nothing_ like our first time. We _were_ rather beast-like—" She sucked in sharply as he used the hand tangled in her hair to pull her forward, crushing his lips to hers.

His rumble box roared to life, and Willow tried to enjoy it as Varhog swiftly removed the rest of their clothing. Before long, he rewarded her enthusiastic sounds of enjoyment with a low, prolonged growl of gratification. Her tears fell from her cheeks down to his face, mingling with his.

"Ah!" Willow ecstatically breathed. "I never would have survived without that! Let's do it again!"

"We have all night," Varhog stated.

"And all of the next," Willow added. "Who needs sleep when they have some precious gemstones full of energy and two dragons besides?"

"Not I," Varhog assured. "I seem to remember that I had some groping in store."

"But of course," Willow agreed, beginning right then. "Was I beast-like enough for you, ram of mine?"

"Almost. You will be once I really get going." He chuckled as she squeezed particularly hard on his chest. "Look at those muscles, Willow."

"I _am_ ," she insisted, pointedly staring at his amazing torso.

"I meant yours," he clarified with a grin. "No wonder Kulkarvek went down so fast."

"Nope," she disagreed. "That was only thanks to the armor, which caused him to shove my arms deeper into his throat every time he smashed them. If you couldn't bring him down quickly, I had no hope. At least by the strength of my arms alone. Thank goodness for An-tee Woo-non."

Varhog laughed. "That was precious when the boys fenced for her. They'll make fine warriors, won't they, in this peaceful world of ours? But she was right about you, Willow. Everyone has been right about you all along. From the time Sunset hatched for you, though the rest of us only saw a frail, sickly human girl. You were in there all along. This amazing, gorgeous, powerful woman who would one day change the world."

"With her loyal, powerful mate by her side," Willow asserted. "I'm everything I am because of you, sweetheart. We're like Eragon and Arya. Alone, I would have failed. Alone, I am nothing."

"You're right. We become our greatest, most excellent selves when joined in pure love and marriage."

-:-:-

The babies slept like they had the night before as a favor to their parents, which became clear when they didn't do it again for many years following that beautiful reunion. But Varhog ensured that Willow never arrived at the place of agony she previously experienced.

Willow engulfed Varhog in her love in every possible way—surrounding his body with hers, smothering him with her touch, immersing him in sounds of enjoyment, drowning him in the sight of her body, imparting of her taste wherever he happened to sample her, and swallowing him in her sweet, feminine smell.

Varhog filled Willow in every way possible—her body with his, her ears with the sound of his voice as he spoke and sang and rumbled and laughed, her eyes with the sight of his powerful body and handsome face, her mouth with his lips and taste as she used it to explore every part of him, her nose with his beloved smell, and her skin with his touch, which he bestowed on every surface he could. She was filled by him all that night, and it hardly seemed like enough.

When their sons awakened the next morning, Willow curled against Varhog's chest, listening to his pounding heart slow. Varhog kept his arms tightly around her as the boys crawled over with big grins, which Willow and Varhog blissfully returned.

Varhog sang their song to his family as a testament of his selfless adoration. Once the boys were nursing in their favorite position, Willow turned her face to his chest and Varhog rested his lips against her forehead. Though their sons were now so much bigger than when they had first assumed this position as a new family, they still formed a series of larger, more elongated hearts with their arms and bodies. The overwhelming feeling in their real hearts was irrefutable joy in their eternal love, which created a beautiful peace and perfectly encompassing fulfillment.

The End


	34. Epilogue

Epilogue

All of the Dragon Riders of Alagaёsia with mates and growing families shared such love. Time flew swiftly by, as they knew to expect.

That year's Games in Alagaёsia ended almost as soon as they began. Then Knilf and Greta had their baby, a daughter they named Keeta. Breetuk's daughter, whom she and Grintuk called Brin, was born five days later, the day after Eragon and Arya celebrated their second anniversary.

At the end of that summer, Bodin was pleased to follow in the footsteps of Hanin and Grintuk, for the next dragon assigned to hatch for the dwarves chose a lovely dwarf lass, who soon caught his merry eye. They didn't wait long to join their married comrades.

Not long after, Nasuada found herself once again with child, and before she brought forth her son Ajihad, Arya too was expecting, exactly as Eragon had always predicted.

Brom was two and a half when their daughter arrived, her birth perfect and peaceful. They named her Islanzadí, but such a long name seemed too big for one so small, so they called her Zadí for short, and she grew to be tall and strong like her parents, inheriting her mother's black hair and sparkling green eyes. Of course, Eragon didn't mind that all three of the most beloved people in his life had glittering emerald eyes, and he wasn't alone for long as the only brown-haired, brown-eyed member of his family.

Eragon's joking prediction that he and his beloved might have a hundred children wasn't quite accurate, but he did successfully father ten children, some of whom shared his handsome features, which greatly pleased his adoring wife. Arya's joy was what it would have been had they truly been blessed with a hundred. Never in her long life before being Eragon's wife had Arya ever expected to be the mother of even _one_ precious child, so when her loyal husband gave her ten, it was almost more happiness than she was prepared to receive. Their children seemed to know just the pattern they wanted to follow, for after Zadí came a brother, then a sister, and so on, all the way down to their youngest daughter.

-:-:-

Though Murtagh never perfectly fulfilled Nasuada's false vision during her imprisonment under Galbatorix, _she_ thought he did far better. Their home was not a manor in the countryside, but the palace in Ilirea, and he did not give her four children, but eight. Lena and Ajh were joined in the next many years by six siblings, four more sisters and two more brothers. The palace was full of their little voices and happy laughter, and Nasuada always perfectly remembered every detail of the joy and satisfaction of her life. Her happiness with Murtagh was all the fuller knowing that death would not part them, and that they had the choice to move on together whenever they wished after the normal span of their lives had transpired.

-:-:-

Willow guessed right once again that she would long for another baby before the time came for her to have one. Will and Var continued to nurse as doggedly as ever, though they eventually dropped several sessions during the night and day. That they still nursed together during the remaining times, along with the fact that Willow was always so thin, prevented her from becoming fertile again until they had all but weaned at the age of five. Willow and Varhog's joy was complete when they discovered the miracle of new life within her after their sixth wedding anniversary, and the joy was doubled when they observed their baby become two and realized they would indeed have another set of twins.

As fate would have it, Willow gave birth to Willow and Monrow on the day of Will and Var's sixth birthday, and the boys were never more thrilled with any two birthday gifts. Their sisters entered the world into the loving hands of their mother and father, and the birth was perfectly normal. No one—least of all Willow—was in any danger, and she cherished the experience and the memories she held of her accomplishment, for she never was able to recall any of the events surrounding the birth of her sons.

After young Willow and Monrow turned three, Willow conceived again. Her twin daughters continued to nurse through her pregnancy and beyond after their little sister was born. Will and Var got another brother when they were twelve, which was also the year their horns started to grow, much to their parents' delight. They appeared in every way to take after their handsome father, which filled Willow with rapturous joy. Not all of her and Varhog's children grew horns, but in time, all of their sons and two of their daughters did.

These six children, three sons and three daughters, were followed in time by six more. So although Willow did not truly have _dozens_ of children with her beloved mate, an even dozen seemed sufficient. The oldest brothers became as dear as their father, taking after Varhog in more ways than appearance. Will and Var were kind, patient, and wise and played tirelessly with the many younger siblings they enjoyed.

-:-:-

The original requirements that a new Dragon Rider remain on the Isle of the Eldunarí for four years were immediately relaxed. All of the Riders wanted to spend more time with their extended families in Alagaёsia. Eragon and Arya, as well as Varhog and Willow—the females had no extended families to visit—began to follow the pattern of spending most of the spring, summer, and fall in Alagaёsia with their respective families in Carvahall or the Bolvek village. The two couples and their families were most often together, splitting their time between those locations, for Roran and Katrina, as well as Myrintuk and Garzhvog, loved all four Dragon Riders and their families equally as much.

During the winter months they returned to the Isle and oversaw the training of the newest Rider chosen that year with rigid discipline. Though as their family grew, Willow and Varhog—and therefore Eragon and Arya—inevitably stayed in the Urgralgra village until Varhog's birthday every year, for they would not deny their children the joy of playing in the snow with their fathers, and such an opportunity was never available in the tropical climate of the Isle. Varhog and Eragon expanded their huts as needed as children continued to swell the numbers of their family.

The elves who originally accompanied Eragon to the Isle were permanent residents by their preference. It was rare, however, that there was never a Dragon Rider on the Isle. The dwarves—whose native lands were geographically closest to the Isle—were between their homes in the Beors and their homes on the Isle with far more frequency than Eragon, Arya, Varhog, and Willow. Knilf and Bodin therefore often continued the training of the newest Riders during the spring, summer, and fall months.

-:-:-

Hanin and Maehrí—whose family also continued to grow—were regularly on the Isle as well, though their more permanent home was in Sílthrim near Maehrí's parents, and they also frequently visited Ellesméra and Hanin's parents. Nefan and Silvi—along with all of the other elves—were more than overjoyed that their radiant daughter and handsome son-in-law produced so many beautiful babies in so short a time. As Hanin had once predicted, the examples set by Eragon and Arya, as well as himself and Maehrí were followed more frequently by other members of their race. That new practice, along with the presence of more dragons among the elves, began to reverse the unfortunate curse of infertility that had long rested on the race, allowing the elves to prosper as much as the rest of the races due to the unique influence of the Dragon Riders in Alagaёsia.

-:-:-

Grintuk and Breetuk's family grew more swiftly than any of the other Riders, for Breetuk was so tall that she was able to conceive earlier than any of the other females, though she nursed her babies as diligently as the rest. By the time Willow's twin daughters were born, Breetuk had five babies ages five and under. She liked to joke that she had kept her promise to Grintuk that she would fill his arms with many healthy cubs, for she had done just that, and he had never been happier.

Grintuk was delighted to find himself in nearly the opposite position he had been in as a child—an only son with five older sisters. In his family with Breetuk, after their first two daughters were born, the loving sisters were followed by nine strapping sons. And he couldn't have been more pleased to have all of the male companionship he longed for as an only son. Breetuk also couldn't have been more grateful that her first two were daughters, for she relied heavily on their assistance as one energetic son followed the other with amazing rapidity.

Much to the relief of Grintuk's mother, her son and Breetuk were able to spend great lengths of time in Anghelm as often as they wished, without Kulkarvek's presence to fear. And this they did, dividing their time between Anghelm and Breetuk's village and often returning with Firesword and the others when they departed to the Isle for the winter. Myrintuk also had one of her teasing expectations realized, for she and Garzhvog became the proud grandparents of over eighty grandchildren. All of Varhog's siblings had at least eight children, though he and Willow—along with Breetuk and Grintuk—had several more.

-:-:-

All of the Riders frequently converged in Ellesméra to visit Rhunön, who continued to be as tough and gruff as ever, though she undoubtedly enjoyed her interaction with the Riders as much as she always had. When the Riders could not find a suitable weapon in size or color among the store of Rider's blades on the Isle, Rhunön always eagerly forged a new blade. This she did for Grintuk and Breetuk, for none of the existing swords were long enough. For Knilf, Bodin, and his wife Vinya, Rhunön fashioned magnificent axes. When Tomath was fully grown, he discovered that Vrael's old white sword Islingr was a perfect fit for him, and he was so honored by the match that he insistently refused to have Rhunön craft him a new weapon.

Tomath found himself spending more and more time with Murtagh in Ilirea—a situation most pleasing to Thorn and Snowfire—but Murtagh was not the reason he was there. The reason was Elva, of course. Tomath grew to be tall, strong, kind, and noble, just like his older brothers. Elva's longing wish that she might one day feel a depth of love to equal the depth of pain she had undeservedly endured during the war was fulfilled when she and Tomath joined in marriage once they were of the ages to do so. And the level of joy and love she felt far exceeded the suffering she experienced as a baby.

Since Tomath—like Murtagh—remained in Ilirea from that time forth with his lovely bride, Snowfire and Thorn were finally able to become mates and remain together. Snowfire's eggs were a stunning array of red, white, and pink in all imaginable patterns.

As it so happened, Kuldr and Midnight also became mates, as well as Vera and Silvan. Such an outcome seemed only natural, as often as they were together with their Riders. Thus it was that many more dragon eggs of stunning appearance joined the growing stash in the Cave of the Eldunarí. They lay dormant for many years, awaiting hatching for some unknown, predetermined time.

As the oldest children of the Riders reached their adolescence, the many dragon eggs produced from the unions of Saphira and Fírnen, Sunset and Black Thunder, Thorn and Snowfire, Kuldr and Midnight, and Vera and Silvan began to stir within their shells. Saphira's dearest, secret wish was fulfilled when her first egg _finally_ hatched for Brom on his thirteenth birthday.

Sunset's first two eggs likewise hatched for Will and Var when they turned thirteen. Not all of the Riders' children became Riders themselves, but many did. Their comfortable, lifelong friendships also inevitably evolved as time went on, and many of the children found their future spouses in one of their childhood friends.

So it was that Ellei-an and Gelarik's blessing to the Riders, their mates, and their children extended in many more ways than they first imagined. As the Riders' children became Riders themselves, the gifts then reached the next generation of children.

The presence of the Dragon Riders in Alagaёsia never became overbearing, though it spread more and more as the years passed and new Riders were chosen from every part of the land. Their contributions were more poignant and lasting than simply imparting wisdom, ensuring peace, or performing magical feats, for their examples of happiness in marriage and family life encouraged similar dedication in all the races, and that perhaps was the most influential gift of the Dragon Riders.

The Eldunarí could not have adequately prepared them for their most important lesson, but the Dragon Riders of Alagaёsia learned through personal experience the irrevocable truth that their most important roles were those found in marriage and family, and that the successful fulfillment of those duties led to the deepest love, the profoundest peace, and the truest joy it was possible to attain. They learned the truth of eternal families, and for it they were eternally grateful.

* * *

 **A/N:** Hello, my friends! Hats off to you if you finished my story (read the next chapter too! It gives insight into the methods and ideals I incorporated in _The Cycle Continues_ ). I thought this would be the end of my contribution to the fanfiction world, but thanks to the inspiration of a couple of readers (DragonRider2001 and an unknown guest), my mind unexpectedly began thinking of what a story about the Riders' children would look like. I didn't think I'd be able to come up with a believable conflict or fresh story line, but both filled my mind within a matter of days.

My new story is called _Next Generation_ , and you'll find it under that title on this site (or you can click on my username, which will take you to my profile and a list of stories I've written). Part One is complete, Part Two is in progress, and there will also be a Part Three. I decided to post a new chapter only once or twice a week with this new story, in an effort to hear more reader feedback, which I dearly missed when I posted _The Cycle Continues_ so quickly. Speaking of which, if you finished my _whole book_ and are reading this, you _must_ have an opinion—whether good or bad—about my story. I'd love to hear it! Please take a moment and leave a review of _Part Four: Eternal_ or _The Cycle Continues_ in general. It's so rewarding to know what readers think and helps potential readers decide whether or not to give the story a whirl. Much appreciated! :)

Warmly,

Autumn :)


	35. Condensed Acknowledgements

Condensed Acknowledgements

If you made it here, it should come as no surprise to you when I say that I wrote an extensive "Acknowledgements" page at the end of my book! As I'm sure you can imagine, it's longwinded and opinionated. ;) And it contains many internet links that will not carry over into a fanfiction . net posting. So I'm going to do my best to condense it here for your information.

If you care to read the unabbreviated version, you can find it on my live journal page: autumn6435 . livejournal . com as _Acknowledgements_. I have marked it as Mature Adult, but only because livejournal will only show the entry title when an entry is tagged that way, rather than the whole entry. Since it is nearly 5,000 words, I'm trying to cut back on how much scrolling people have to do over on that page. But, while there is some mention of my opinions about intimacy, it obviously contains no explicit sexual material, violence, or profanity. :)

The reason I felt the need to create this type of resource was for the simple fact that I was unexpectedly able to incorporate _so many_ parts of my life into this story as I wrote. And since I truly believe this information has the potential to change people's real lives for the better, I want you to be aware that it exists and have references to learn more if you care to. Please know that I'm including this simply for _informational_ purposes. This is not meant to be advertising or propaganda in any form, and none of these authors have any idea that I integrated their techniques or philosophies into my creative work.

I'll try to keep this organized by simply mentioning the technique or concept, how it appeared in my story, and a way you can learn more if you want.

 **Female Fertility**. Appears in the many lessons Arya gives to Eragon and Willow about the workings of the female reproductive system and the female menstrual cycle. An awesome book to learn more is _Taking Charge of Your Fertility_ by Toni Weschler. That book also touches on Lactational Amenorrhea Method, which appears in my story as the delayed return of female fertility that occurs as a result of a certain approach to breastfeeding. Another good book on how to make this happen for you is _Breastfeeding and Natural Child Spacing_ by Sheila Kippley. Weschler's book also teaches about the Shettles method, which is one way to attempt to influence the conception of either sex baby.

 **Natural, Pain-free Childbirth**. Also appears in the many lessons Arya gives Eragon and Willow about how childbirth should be gentle and comfortable. There are tons of amazing books about this. Here are some of my favorites: _Childbirth Without Fear_ by Grantly Dick-Read, _Ina May's Guide to Childbirth_ by Ina May Gaskin, and _Hypnobirthing: The Mongan Method_ by Marie F. Mongan. Another awesome resource is _A Child Is Born_ by Lennart Nilsson and Lars Hamberger. It contains amazing visual depictions of pregnancy at every stage. Those pictures are how I always visualized the babies looking whenever any of the Riders use their minds to reach them.

 **Breastfeeding.** This comes up in my story _so much_. Here are some of the many different aspects of breastfeeding that I talk about in my book: on-demand, unscheduled approach to nursing; extended breastfeeding (nursing into toddlerhood and beyond); tandem nursing (nursing a newborn and toddler at the same time); the breast crawl (when a newborn 'crawls' to its mother's breast and latches itself on); nighttime nursing; engorgement; hand expression. I drew my inspiration for the Urgralgra approach to breastfeeding from a hilarious article I read about breastfeeding in Mongolia, where they truly do nurse into early childhood, revere breastfeeding and breast milk, and attribute the strength of their greatest wrestlers to long, illustrious breastfeeding careers. You really need to go see my other Acknowledgements page to follow that link and read that article. _So funny!_ But beyond that, the _best_ book on all of the above facets of breastfeeding is La Leche League's _The Womanly Art of Breastfeeding,_ 8th Edition. Other great resources: _Adventures in Tandem Nursing_ by Hilary Flower and _Mothering Your Nursing Toddler_ by Norma J. Bumgarner.

 **Placenta Encapsulation**. This might have been surprising or even shocking to some readers, but it actually does happen in the real world, just as it did in the Urgralgra culture. I've never read a book about it, but I learned a lot by reading at placentabenefits . info (remove the spaces for your URL). Women have their placenta prepared in a special way so they can simply swallow capsules during the weeks of their post-partum (after pregnancy) recovery. That's slightly easier for most people to accept than simply consuming it raw, as Arya and Willow do, but to each her own! I had my placenta encapsulated after the birth of my third son and truly did notice a huge difference in my recovery.

 **Plant-based Diet**. Christopher Paolini wrote the elven race (and eventually Dragon Riders) as herbivores. I simply kept it for congruency. But it was easy to write about since I was a vegetarian for over six years (recently I have eaten more meat, but it is still a sparing part of my diet). Best book I've ever read about the benefits of a plant-based diet is _The China Study_ by T. Colin Campbell. Very scientifically based and compelling, if you've ever considered learning more about eating more plants!

 **Nambudripad's Allergy Elimination Techniques (NAET).** Huh?! I know, I never called it that in my story, but this is referring to the whole section surrounding Willow's strange allergic reaction to Varhog and all of the treatments that happen to reverse it. That too was based on real-world techniques. Allergies are more far-reaching than most westernized doctors realize, and it is possible to be allergic to other people. Anyway, I wish I knew as much as Arya about this topic. The field of energetic healing and Chinese medicine is vast and ancient. I actually know very little about it, but what I do know I learned in a book by the woman who developed the aforementioned method, Dr. Devi S. Nambudripad called _Say Good-bye to Illness._ Very interesting and potentially life-changing for people with unresolved allergic conditions or unexplained medical conditions. Info also available at www . naet . com.

 **Elimination Communication.** That's just how we sometimes refer to it in the good old United States, but I realize that many of my readers are from all parts of the world, so this might be a practice as familiar and natural as anything to some of you. This is the practice and approach the Urgralgra have in addressing their babies' pottying needs. And it's actually very common in cultures worldwide _not_ to use diapers or nappies on their infants. I've done this with all of my sons. Very fun and very fulfilling. And they've all been "potty-trained" (though I never had to traditionally potty-train them) by around two years old. Good book: _Infant Potty Training_ by Laurie Boucke. Good website: www . diaperfreebaby . org.

 **Sleep Sharing.** The way Urgralgra view sleep and how it should be shared as a family, especially when young children are involved. Sometimes called co-sleeping or bed-sharing, this simply refers to the practice of keeping babies (or young children) near parents at sleep times. Again, a very common practice worldwide. Lots of great books and websites out there. Search any of those topics online to learn how to do it safely and enjoy all of the benefits of keeping little ones nearby at night!

 **Baby Wearing**. The Urgralgra, and therefore Arya and Willow, all eventually rely on this method to carry their babies around and fly with them on their dragons. It's another very common, age-old practice worldwide. It's smart and convenient to tie a baby to your body! There are myriad ways to accomplish this. The variety of slings, wraps, carriers, and other devices available to strap a baby to its mother or father's body is endless. There are tons of resources for this too. You could start here: babywearinginternational . org.

 **Baby-Led Weaning.** There is only a very brief mention of this in my story, when I write about how Arya introduces solid foods to Brom as he grows. This is a very common-sense approach to doing just that. Great book: _Baby-Led Weaning_ by Gill Rapley.

And last but _certainly_ not least, it should come as no surprise to anyone who read my story that I'm a religious person. As I've shared in my profile, I'm a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I don't mean to be preachy, and I know that many spiritual beliefs might be held by the representation of readers from all around the world, so I'll simply summarize how my beliefs appeared in my story and allow you to learn more from there if you want. In no particular order:

· **Love**

· **The concept of a Heavenly Father—or Father of our Spirits—and a Divine Son and Savior, Jesus Christ**

· **The concept of an Atonement, performed by Jesus Christ to redeem mankind from sin and death**

· **The eternal existence of our souls and that our bodies have spirits that existed before our life and will continue to exist after.**

· **Priesthood authority or power (the power responsible for creating the universe, our earth, and life within)**

· **Eternal families**

· **Immortality and eternal life**

· **Faith and Prayer**

· **The importance of marriage between man and woman and families**

· **The Law of Chastity (abstaining from sexual intercourse before marriage, only having sex with your lawful husband or wife, and remaining completely loyal after marriage)**

· **The sacred nature of the procreative power and that it must be reserved for marriage so each new life created will have a father and mother to care for and raise it**

· **Choice and Accountability, or that our choices in life will determine what our existence after will be like**

· **A spirit world where righteous spirits dwell in peace and wicked spirits wait in a type of prison after their mortal death**

· **Miraculous occurrences, such as life being restored after death or the appearance of heavenly beings to mortal men on earth**

· **Resurrection, or the permanent binding of our spirits to our physical bodies**

· **The purpose of our earthly lives as an opportunity to gain a physical body for our spirit, as a time to be tested and tried, and as a time to find joy in our families**

· **A force that opposes all good (aka Satan or the devil)**

· **Repentance and forgiveness**

· **Compassion and mercy**

· **The concept of foreordination, or where a spirit might be prepared for a certain calling during their mortal life before entering that mortal life**

· **Receiving blessings or rewards for righteous living**

I have many other spiritual beliefs, but these are some that found expression in my story. In my opinion, _these_ particular truths have the most potential to change someone's life forever. You can learn more about my beliefs or my church at www . lds . org or www . mormon . org. A book I love and believe to be as true and important as the Bible is _The Book of Mormon: Another Testament of Jesus Christ_ and this book touches on many of the doctrines mentioned above.

Anyway, my friends, I know this still ended up being long, though it's one-third the length of the full version! :) If none of this matters in the slightest to you, fine by me! I hope you still enjoyed _The Cycle Continues_ and will share it with others who might likewise enjoy it. Thank you so much for reading!

Until we meet again, in this life or the next!

Much love,

~Autumn :)


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